


The Art of Love

by ContrEeri



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Not Epilogue Compliant, Politics, gaaleefest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2018-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-15 12:38:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 44,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12321255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ContrEeri/pseuds/ContrEeri
Summary: The end of the war should be a time of peace, but peace is not so easy to obtain. There is something working in the shadows of the shinobi world, working to ruin the hard-won peace that so many died for. When Gaara returns from a mission in the west of Wind Country, his life is turned upside down and his only hope is a team from Konoha. As the plot thickens, the situation only worsens and Gaara is left with few options if he wants to uncover the truth and restore peace to the shinobi world.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is super late because of how much has been going on in my life (and it's not even done for the same reason), but I decided to finally get posting on my fic for the GaaLee Fest. I'm a few chapters in, so at least there's that! I'd like to give a shoutout to my beta, tumblr user, New-Endings! Thanks for putting up with my sporadic writing habits! 
> 
> The prompts I used for this fic:  
> -political strife/assassination attempt  
> -“I know the border lines we drew between us/Keep the weapons down/Keep the wounded safe/I know our antebellum innocence/ Was never meant to see the light of our armistice day.” (song: antebellum, Vienna Teng)  
> -“Honor from death is a myth. Invented by the war torn to make sense of the horrific. If we die, it will be so that others may live. Truly honorable death, the only honorable death, is one that enables life.”- Rae Carson,  _The Girl of Fire and Thorns_    
> -“The true meaning of the 'samurai' is one who serves and adheres to the power of love.”- Morihei Ueshiba,  _The Art of Peace_   
> 
> I have one more prompt claimed for something smaller, but I haven't started it. Also I'm sure it's obvious, but the title from this fic is based on _The Art of Peace_. In all honesty, this fic is an idea I've had for the last seven years, based originally only on the song [Antebellum by Vienna Teng](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BYb-cNOxe8w) (which you should all listen to by the way). I never started it because I was more focused on Alliance, but decided I might as well use the GaaLee fest to finally write this. I honestly don't know why I decided to go for something so complicated for the fest, but like I guess that's my fatal flaw as a writer--always taking on way too many complicated stories at once. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys!

“The true meaning of the 'samurai' is one who serves and adheres to the power of love.”- Morihei Ueshiba, _The Art of Peace_

_[Five Years Post the Fourth Great Shinobi War]_

Peace had always been untenable. It was as elusive and ephemeral in a world built by warriors as the streak of light from falling stars: there for but the briefest of moments, beauty gone before it had been properly appreciated. The last great shinobi war, however, left a bitter taste in the mouth of most shinobi. War always left a scar, an ache, a sadness that would linger for the rest of that lifetime; and this war had proven no different. As with so many other wars, the end of war was the promise of peace and unity, however brief it would last. Yet this time felt different; this time felt final. 

After the wounded had been tended to, and the dead cremated and mourned, the leaders of the great villages came together to unite their world. Treaties were signed and declarations made. The future looked promising but, as with all change, there was resistance. The first year was tense, strained by unexpected skirmishes breaking out across every country; rouge shinobi began popping up; mercenaries became a constant threat. There were still old hurts that had not been forgotten, trust had not yet been solidified between all parties, and the smaller villages felt slighted still. 

They pressed on, held fast. The Kage of the five great villages were committed to peace, and with each passing day they believed they would see improvement. 

It took three years before the tension finally gave way to something like acceptance. It was not perfect, but peace could finally prevail. During that fourth year, peace felt as though it were taking hold, settling over their world like a warm blanket. As the fifth anniversary of the end of the war approached, spirits were high; hope was alive in every heart. Something still lingered—mistrust and doubt and unease—but the peace was stronger now. 

As the five great nations prepared for the upcoming festival to celebrate the end of the war, a calm stole over each of the villages. It spoke to the soul of every shinobi, every citizen, and the Kage themselves. It said, softly and sweetly, like the whisper of a lover, “At last, peace.” 

When the festival dawned, held in Suna that year, it was a joyous occasion. 

“Peace is precious,” Gaara said to the masses gathered in his village. The day was too hot and heavy with the promise of an approaching sand storm, but beauty shone through in each moment of the day; hope glittered like the sun, peace caressed every face like the wind that blew through the village. There was a tranquility about the chaos of the celebration; a soft, sweetness in the sight of the many shinobi who'd come from other villages sticking out like sore thumbs amongst Suna's people. To Gaara it looked just as it should: A united world, a peaceful world, a loving world. 

“Five years ago today, the Fourth Great Shinobi War came to an end and we stood together as one united army, as comrades, as friends! It has been a difficult road, but it has been a road worth traveling and one that could not have been traveled without the friendships we have built over these past five years. Trust in each other, trust in peace, and celebrate today not as shinobi from one village or another, but as friends united by honor and love!” 

The cacophony that followed Gaara's short speech held the force of the storm the desert promised would arrive within the week, but it washed over Gaara like the ocean—refreshing and soothing. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment to bask. As the night drew to a close, no one had any doubts that the coming year would be the most peaceful year they'd seen. The joy bubbled over; the laughter around the village was like an endless and beautiful song, and the smiles on each face lit up the village like stars. Peace had come alive within Suna, a living breathing thing passing through each soul; peace smiled upon them all, blessed their night. It was easy to imagine all the good the coming year would bring as shinobi from every village raised their glasses for a toast. 

“To the future!” echoed around the village. 

“To peace!” followed quickly after. 

Gaara smiled as he raised his own glass to the promise of a peaceful future.


	2. One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tangled web has been woven, one that is impossible to unravel in the dark, damp of a Suna prison cell.

The day that peace died came far too quickly after the fifth End of War festival. The killing blow? The assassination of the Tsuchikage.

Gaara had been on a mission outside of the village the day of the assassination, but when he returned to Suna five days later he was met by nine stony-faced Iwagakure shinobi, none of whom appeared to be happy to see him. It was not the warm welcome he'd been expecting. 

“Kazekage-sama,” Baki said, impassive and intent. He didn't acknowledge the three ANBU who'd accompanied Gaara on his mission. “We have some news.” 

Temari was standing at Baki's side, her expression as smooth as sandstone. Shikamaru stood a distance apart from her, which was odd until Gaara realized it was because Shikamaru had come, not as a guest, but as a representative of Konoha. Temari had been visiting Shikamaru, taking some much needed time away from her duties, which must have been how whatever news he'd not yet been made privy to had reached her. It was not that Shikamaru had accompanied her, but that she had accompanied him. Something was grievously wrong.

“I gathered,” he murmured, staring past Baki to the Iwa delegation. They had formed a semi-circle behind Baki, clearly intent on keeping Gaara from entering his own village. He narrowed his eyes, tense all over. Beside him, his ANBU shifted. 

“This news,” Gaara said carefully, “can it wait until I have showered? It has been a long journey.” 

“No,” a hard-faced woman said. Her eyes were calculating, mistrustful, and cold. He'd already surmised that this was not a friendly visit, but her tone was the final clue that proved it: something had happened in the world, and someone was blaming him. 

“Then could we take this to my office?” 

“Absolutely not,” she said. Her pale skin glistened with beads of sweat and her dark hair, swept up in a haphazard pony-tale, was hanging limply around her face. They had obviously been waiting for him for quite some time. 

“Is this information sensitive.” 

“You know exactly what it is,” she snapped. 

Gaara straightened and, despite his short stature, managed to look down at her. “I clearly do not,” he pointed out sharply. “And regardless, I am still the Kazekage. If you insist on baring me from entering my own village, then I demand an explanation.” 

The woman's expression flickered for the barest fraction of a second, fear edging into her countenance before it vanished like a flash of lightning. Beside her, one of her teammates cleared his throat. “Excuse us, Kazekage-sama, but the nature of our visit pertains to the Tsuchikage.” 

The gathered Iwa shinobi watched him with bated breath, suspicion and expectation clear by the intentness with which they stared. 

“Is he all right?” he finally asked when no other information was forthcoming. They were waiting for him to give something away, but he had nothing to give. 

The kunoichi who'd first spoken gave a harsh, bitter laugh. When she spoke, her voice was gruff to hide her grief. “Having been crushed to death, I'd have to say no.” 

The truth of the situation hit him like a punch to the gut, swift and unexpected. She stared at him with the intensity of a hunting beast, her jaw clenched. The accusation in her stare was all he needed for further clarification. 

“I see,” he murmured. “And what proof do you have that I am responsible?” 

“What?” an ANBU snapped. “You can't be serious! There's no way—”

“We have proof!” she snapped, her expression twisting. “His body was covered in sand—”

“Then it couldn't have been Gaara,” Temari cut in immediately. Her voice was level, completely free of emotion. She sounded as flat as the driest places in the desert as she carefully compartmentalized each and every feeling surging in her. Gaara knew his sister well—this was diplomacy, this was politics, and if they did not back down, this was war. 

The woman laughed, cold and fierce. “No? How do you figure that?” 

“My sand does not linger,” he told her. “If I had killed him there would not be any evidence of it.” 

She took a step back, an unconscious gesture. Around her the others shifted and drew their weapons. “Is that a threat?” 

“A statement of fact,” Gaara said flatly. “You provided your evidence, I am countering it. I could not have killed Oonoki, because if I had you would not be here to accuse me of it.” 

“So you say. But it's your word against tangible evidence.” 

Gaara hummed. “Shall I demonstrate then?” 

He lifted his hand idly, almost casually. The gourd on his back let out a soft _pop!_ and sand trickled out in a thin stream. As one, Suna's uninvited guests stepped back and satisfaction rippled through him.

“You dare—”

The sand swirled, rising up into the air slowly. It glinted in the sun, sparkling like small shards of glass, dancing between his fingers. 

“You dared to accuse me of killing another Kage and breaking the alliance,” Gaara intoned. “You dared come to my home and bar me from entering, and with a weak guard not fit to so much as face this innocent display. You dared to cast suspicions on my character with flimsy evidence.” He paused, allowing the sand to solidify into a small ball in his hand. He narrowed his eyes and crushed the ball in his fist, letting it fall apart. The sand fell from between his fingers like water. “I only dare show you the scope of my control. I could kill you with less than a handful of sand if I wished to and it would leave no trace, no grain. Nothing. Yet you think that I am sloppy enough to murder an ally and leave him covered.

“Now, if that is all the evidence—”

“Whe—where were you?” 

Gaara stared at the group in silence. He was done discussing this with them. 

“Yo-you were away for a week,” another Iwa kunoichi pointed out, fear making her tremble. “And it just so happened to be the week the Tsuchikage was killed.” 

“I had a mission in the west. It is hardly a crime for me to leave my village and it is circumstantial evidence at best.” 

“But combined with the sand—”

Gaara silenced her with a look. “What is it you want from me?” 

“Y-you're under arrest,” another shinobi said, but his voice shook too much for it to be commanding. 

“I am not,” Gaara said simply. “I am going to enter my village, go home and shower, and then I will return to my office where I will file a mission report. My team will do the same.” 

“Your team are considered accomplices—”

A hot wave of chakra rolled forward, a ripple that silenced all protest. 

“Neither myself, nor my people have done anything to warrant this. We have not conspired against our allies, we have not assassinated anyone. We are as committed to peace as we have always been. Step aside.” 

Shikamaru sighed. “I'm sorry, Kazekage-sama,” he said heavily. “But it's been ordered by the other Kage. You are to step down from your post and hand over the leadership of Suna to another while we investigate.” 

Silence stretched for a long time as Gaara stared down his would-be captors. He had two options: go with them and allow them to take everything from him and violate his village in their hunt for proof that didn't exist; or he could kill them. 

The former was unappealing; the latter unacceptable. 

His hands were tied. Figuratively, and soon literally. He did not want to think about it. 

“Temari,” he said softly. It sounded like a plea—couldn't his big sister do anything about this? Couldn't she protect him from the monsters under his bed? He was a grown man, though, and these were not monsters in the dark. 

She hesitated long enough for Gaara to see the chinks in her armor. Her emotions were roiling just beneath the surface; he could see her sisterly need to protect him, her shinobi commitment to defend him, but this was not an acceptance of defeat. Finally, she straightened and squared her jaw, the chinks repaired, filled in with a shining gold that could not be breached. “Yes, Gaara?” 

“You are the Kazekage now,” he told her. “May the winds guide and protect you.” 

II. 

His cell had been prepared with large chakra dampening seals covering the walls, ceiling, floor, and door. The seals glowed a dull, sinister blue in the darkness of his cell sapping him of his energy and exhausting him of his strength. His eyes drooped, but he fought to stay awake, willing himself with only determination and the fear of sleep itself.

Gaara had not slept since the Infinite Tsukiyomi. That had been the only time in his life that his dreams had ever been pleasant and he had no desire to see if pleasant dreams would come again. He had no need, nor desire for sleep; and no dream, no matter how sweet, could tempt him. 

His breathing came slow and labored as he sat on the rickety cot. He trusted Temari—and Kankurou, once he returned from his own mission—to take care of things during his imprisonment, but he did not like the ignorance that came with being locked away. If his tired mind could be trusted, it had only been twenty-four hours since his arrest but it felt like a lifetime. 

Gaara had tried to use his Third Eye Jutsu to spy on the Iwa delegation, but it had failed. Not one grain of sand had stirred. It did not surprise him, for even the thin layer of sand he wore around Suna had fallen from him to liter the floor of the cell, revealing skin several shades darker than the sand itself. It was the first time in his life that he'd felt so exposed; the sand he wore as a second skin was not an ultimate defense, but it was comforting. It made him feel safe, warm, home. Now he felt vulnerable, naked and exposed, while the chakra dampeners made him feel weaker and more exhausted on top of it all. 

Gaara had never felt so ill at ease within his own village, not even as Suna's feared and hated monster. At least then he'd had power, at least then he'd had his freedom.

There was a knock on the door and a slot at the bottom opened. A tray slid through, the smell of food filling his nose and making his stomach clench. He got shakily to his feet, walking the short distance from the cot to the tray of food. He only barely managed not to collapse before it.

“Kazekage-sama,” a familiar voice whispered. It was Baki. 

Gaara sighed. “Any updates?” 

“I've written a report. Temari has instructed me to keep tabs on the representatives, and Shikamaru has been assisting as well, though from what we have been able to gather they don't trust him.” 

“I see,” Gaara intoned. “Has Kankurou returned from his mission yet? Have they discussed anything openly with Temari? How will Suna be affected by this?” 

Baki grunted. “Unfortunately, Kankurou has not returned, and they are sharing very little with us. However, as far as how it will affect the village, they've put a hold on travel to and from Suna, which includes all imports and exports, as well as missions outside the village. If things do not progress quickly, this will likely cripple the economy.” 

Gaara cursed under his breath. “Are there any leads on the Tsuchikage's murder?” Baki was silent for too long. Gaara closed his eyes. “I see.” 

“Shikamaru believes this is a set up,” Baki said, as if this would be comforting. 

“I had been able to gather that much,” Gaara replied dryly. 

“Forgive me.” 

Gaara shook his head. “It is of little consequence. Do we have any allies in this?” 

“The Hokage,” Baki said. There was a pause and then, “Forgive me, but I should leave. Everything you need to know is in that report. I will return in a few hours to take the tray. Please leave the envelope with it.” 

“Understood.” 

Baki slid the slot closed, leaving Gaara alone once more. 

III. 

The report had been short and concise; just a quickly compiled list of the intelligence they had on the matter and nothing more. It had filled only half a page. 

Baki had returned to take the report hours ago, but Gaara could see it in his mind as clearly as if it were still in front of him. There had been six bullet points in total—first, the Hokage and Naruto were the only ones with any political power defending him; second, the other four nations were organizing teams to investigate the matter; third, Suna's place within the alliance and all protections offered by it had been forfeit until such a time as evidence came to light proving his innocence; fourth, his village would be on lock down, as Baki had said, until further notice; fifth, as he had been witness to, his ANBU guards who had accompanied him had also been arrested, but in addition to this the entirety of Suna's ANBU had been put on temporary suspension until further notice; and, finally, he would be on trial within the month, evidence or no. 

Once on trial, Gaara would be at risk of not only losing his title as Kazekage, but imprisonment for life or, should his peers feel it necessary, death. 

His only hope of salvation was the team from Konoha. 

The odds were bleak, stacked so high against him he was sure it would all come tumbling down and crush him. The weight of Iwa's trust in his guilt was heaviest of all the obstacles in his path. The village and its people needed someone to blame, and the sand found at the scene of the crime had been enough. All Iwa needed was one more infinitesimal piece of evidence—it didn't matter what it was or how it came to be; anything would do—and they would sign his death certificate happily. Nothing but the real culprit was likely to sway Iwa, but Gaara could not fathom who would kill the Tsuchikage or why. 

They had no motive, no evidence, and no leads. 

Imprisoned as he was, there was little he could do except wait and hope, but waiting was not his strong suit and hope could only take him so far. His best option for surviving this was a witness from the village out west, where he had spent the week of the Tsuchikage's murder fighting mercenaries and ensuring the safety of the civilians who had placed their trust in him to save them. Any one of the village elders would do, and he was sure they would be willing to help. Gaara had spent the better part of the last year doing all in his power to curb the outbreaks of violence that had threatened the peace of the western villages and it seemed that with this final mission he had fully succeeded. If nothing else, the surviving few rouges would know better than to attack a village protected by Gaara of the Desert. 

However, if word got out of his imprisonment—and he was certain it would, sooner or later—then all of Wind would be at risk, not least of which his own village. Once word spread, a month of imprisonment could bring ruin upon the western villages. He couldn't let that happen, and yet he could not see a way of stopping it. Dread clung to him like a second skin, as the sand that no longer responded to him had done all his life. 

As the hours dragged on, blurring together until Gaara couldn't guess what day it was anymore, it all began to feel more and more like the beginning of something greater than himself. He should have known that something was amiss, should have sensed it as he sensed the approach of sandstorms. The peace within the world had been tenuous—too tenuous—for years since the war, and the sudden decline in outbreaks of violence should have been a clue. It was too obvious, too perfect, too easy; yet he had missed it, overcome by the hope that finally peace would settle over the world. The tension had still lingered, he could sense it like the sharp tang of blood, but the End of War festival had given him false hope, made him believe that it was possible for peace to prevail, and so he had ignored the obvious signs. 

Gaara thought for long quiet hours, fighting exhaustion and hunger and a fear that gripped him in a vice as he tried to piece together anything that would help him make sense of this turn of events. Were there any dots to connect? Were there any clues that would lead him to the killer of the Tsuchikage? Couldn't it have been someone else with power over sand? Iwagakure certainly had enough dirt and plenty of shinobi with an affinity for earth type justu. What made him the prime suspect? Was this related to the tension over the years as they transitioned to peace? 

There was a bigger picture, but trapped in a cold, dark cell, Gaara simply couldn't see it. 

IV. 

He was questioned three days after his imprisonment by the Iwagakure representative. 

Gaara sat in an uncomfortable chair, manacles with chakra dampening seals around his wrists, while two Iwagakure shinobi flanked the kunoichi who'd first spoken to him upon his return to the village. She glared down at files—no doubt reports with nothing to incriminate him—but did not look at him once. 

“State your name,” the woman said.

It was strange to be on this side of the interrogation process. And in his own village, no less. 

“Gaara.” 

“Your full name.” 

Gaara narrowed his eyes. He was tired, his patience was finer than silk, and he did not like being treated like a criminal in his own home. “Gaara of the Desert, Fifth Kazekage of Sunagakure.” 

The woman narrowed her eyes. “Former Kazekage,” she corrected, but still she did not look at him. 

“I have not relinquished my title yet,” he said tightly. “And I will not because I am innocent.” 

“Still sticking with that? You might be able to avoid execution if you just come clean.” 

Gaara resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Lies will not work on me.” 

She shrugged. “Suit yourself. A confession of guilt might show remorse—”

“If I were guilty,” he told her, leaning forward in his seat and watching as she leaned back, eyes snapping up to him like a frightened animal, “if I were the person you seem to think I am, I would not have remorse for what I'd done.” He narrowed his eyes, determined to catch her gaze. “Do you think I'm a heartless murderer? Do you think I'm the monster of Suna still?” 

She let out a shaky breath through her nose, her jaw clenched so tight it must have hurt. “Your kill count is far higher than most shinobi your age.” 

“You have no idea,” Gaara murmured. 

“Are you proud of it?” she asked, horror making her eyes go wide. He held her gaze, like a hawk catching a mouse too slow to take cover. Her pupils dilated and her lips parted on a heavily exhaled breath: she was terrified. 

“Once upon a time,” he murmured. “Once upon a time, I relished in the kill, too. My sand has soaked up the blood of countless victims—most of whom were innocent bystanders to the pain of a neglected child. I have never forgotten a single face.” 

She swallowed. “You—you were quite notorious,” she said softly. “You still are.” She shook herself, tearing her gaze from him finally. She cleared her throat, straightening. “Is it any wonder you are a suspect?” 

“Yes,” Gaara said simply. “I committed myself to peace years ago, even before the war. Why would I do something to the detriment of that peace now?” 

“Perhaps you were never really in favor of peace.” She picked up one of the files, opening it and leaning back in her chair. “It says here that Suna has suffered financially over the years. The Kaze Daimyo outsourced much of the work for Suna's shinobi to Konoha—isn't that why your village allied itself with Orochimaru?” 

“It was the excuse my father hid behind,” Gaara acquiesced. “But I could not tell you what his true motivation was. Whether it was economic or something more nefarious, I will never know.” 

“But it's true that Suna suffered economically. And even after the alliance with Konoha was forged, Suna's economy has still remained on the low end of the spectrum—especially compared with the likes of Konoha and Iwa. There was certainly some economic upswing once you took office, but it's leveled out since the second year of your leadership and hasn't seen much improvement since.” 

“The desert is a harsh place. Suna gets enough business to maintain our standing, but the desert does not welcome people to it with open arms.” 

“That may be, but certainly the decreasing need for shinobi has made an impact on your village's economy.” 

“It has. As it has the other villages.” 

“But none have suffered quite like Suna.” 

“Suna has not suffered,” Gaara snapped. “Its people have benefited from the hope for peace. Mortality rates have dropped, health has improved, families are able to remain intact—what about that implies suffering?” 

“But the finances—”

“In your determination to damn me, did you only look at the books pertaining to what shinobi bring in? Did you think to check the monetary gain from exports? Trade in Suna is at an all time high, largely thanks to the peace that I fought for. Not only has trade improved, but we've seen an increase in visitors, which means that local businesses are thriving more than ever. If you're implying that I killed Oonoki over money, then you might as well just announce my innocence and be done with this farce.” 

“You think the Tsuchikage's death is a joke?” she asked, her voice shaking. 

If he'd had the energy, he would have jumped to his feet in his anger. “No,” he growled. “I think it is a plot—to what end I cannot say, but it is a plot and you are falling for it.” 

Her expression shifted. It was a brief moment—so small it should not have registered with Gaara at all, and yet he could see her mask slip as though it had fully done so. As though she had let it drop away on purpose. 

She schooled her expression and leaned forward, glaring at him with everything she was worth. “I have fallen for nothing.” She rose from her seat, staring down her thin nose at him, a glint in her eye. “Take him back to his cell.” 

V. 

Gaara sat in the silence of his cell, playing over his interrogation. It had been short—too short, in fact—and almost everything she'd said had been a lead. 

What it was leading him towards left him more uneasy than his initial imprisonment.

The motivation she'd cooked up for the murder of the Tsuchikage was not an uncommon complaint from shinobi. He'd heard it from his own people—presented to him as a concern at the end of the war, when everyone was still hurting from the aftermath—and he'd heard it from others outside of his village. It had been whispered by travelers sitting in the local bars of Suna, it had been a topic of conversation overheard while visiting other villages—Konoha, Kumo, Iwa, Kiri, even the smaller nations held whispers of unrest, of shinobi ill at ease with peace. 

There were too many old hurts, there had been too much blood shed, and too many lives lost between villages. How could they be expected to get on? And what would they do for work? What would become of the culture they so loved? Would shinobi become obsolete? 

The world over, there had been people questioning the wisdom in peace, and so peace did not come. 

It had made sense, of course. Peace could not be created overnight. It would take time, years of forging bonds and treaties; years of building trust and breaking down borders. But the peace they were striving for had been fraught with such difficulties, such obstacles and trials that it had almost felt as though the universe itself were against it. 

The slot in his cell door opened, the sound of metal sliding against metal filling the silence of his cell, interrupting his musings. 

“Gaara.” It was Temari. 

“You shouldn't be here.” 

Temari snorted. “ _You_ shouldn't be here.” She paused. “I heard they interrogated you.” 

“They did.” 

“That's against protocol. Interrogations shouldn't be executed by the injured party, and without someone else there! Shikamaru should have been there. _I_ should have been there,” she said, her voice strained. 

“I doubt they would have allowed it.” 

“Fuck that,” she snapped. “This is still my village and as acting Kazekage I should have been witness to that.” 

“Yes,” Gaara agreed. “But then how would they falsify the interrogation?” 

Temari was silent. 

He waited for her to digest what he'd said, listening to the silence beyond his cell. It was late, judging by the quiet of the corridor. 

“What do you need?” 

Gaara leaned his head back against the wall, breathing deeply. “I need witnesses to my mission—witnesses not from Suna. The western villages should have plenty of people willing to vouch for me, but we need to be discreet. I don't want word of my imprisonment getting out.” 

“It's already taken care of.” 

Gaara let himself smile. He should know better than to doubt his sister's abilities. “Do we have any intel on the skirmishes that have broken out since the end of the war? Any information on those involved?” 

“I'll see what I can dig up. Are you going to tell me why?” 

“It's just a hunch,” he murmured. “I'm not sure yet where it will lead.” 

“I doubt we'll like where it leads,” Temari muttered. “Anything else?” 

"Has Kankurou returned?"

"He got back this morning. They detained him for hours before they finally let him enter the village, but he's home."

Gaara nodded, relief washing over him. There was little Kankurou could do for him that Temari wasn't already doing, but it was a comforting to know that his brother was close. “How is the village?” 

Temari sighed. “It's what you'd expect. People are upset. No one knows what's going on, but they aren't stupid. You haven't been seen since your return from the west and there are a bunch of foreigners poking around, asking questions. It's tense out here. I'm amazed any of the representatives are willing to show their faces in the village.” 

“Have they gone out in the village much?” 

“Only one of them. The rest stay close to the shinobi compounds.” 

“Interesting. Have any of the investigative teams arrived?” 

“Konoha's should be here by tomorrow.” 

“Good. They'll be the first?” 

“Yup.” 

Gaara nodded to himself. “Find a way to debrief them in private,” he said. “If the Hokage is on our side, I imagine that he's organized a team to help prove my innocence.” 

“Understood,” Temari said. “I'll send Baki with anything I find on the fighting from the last few years. I'll have an ANBU team sent to retrieve a witness or two. They had to release the ANBU who hadn't accompanied you to the west—something to do with a lack of evidence." She snorted. "This whole fucking case lacks evidence, but even if that bitch won't reinstate ANBU the only ones in prison are the ones who were with you which at least gives us some leverage. I'll send out a team immediately. They can take the evac tunnels. They've already barred the gates, but they don't have the manpower to watch every entrance to the village.” 

“Good. Thank you, Temari.” 

Temari was silent. It was a heavy silence, one that had Gaara shifting on his bed. “Don't.” 

“I—” Her voice was thick, the words stuck in her throat. Gaara had seen Temari cry on only a handful of occasions, and if there was one thing he hated in the world, it was seeing his sister cry. He was not well equipped to ease her suffering and so hated her crying all the more for his inability to comfort her. 

“I'll get you out of here,” she said, a hard edge to her voice as she tried to reign in her emotions. “I promise.” 

Gaara sighed. “You should go. While I doubt they have eyes everywhere in the village, they would be fools not to be watching me.” 

“Right. I'll send word as soon as we find anything.” 

The slot slid closed and Gaara was alone again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case anyone is wondering about the whole "second skin" thing with Gaara's sand--I've always been annoyed by how pale he is and really wanted an excuse to make him darker so the idea is that the second skin is just a very thin layer of sand that isn't exactly hard or anything, so it's not like the sand that defends him. It's basically just a security thing. So without his ability to mold chakra his sand isn't there and he's darker than we see him in canon.


	3. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She has not felt this powerless since she was a child. Somehow, the title of Kazekage does not afford her any of the things she desperately needs to save her youngest brother. Her only hope lies with Konoha's team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get into a bi-weekly posting schedule for this and all my other WIPs. I'm super tired tonight, so while I've gone over this one last time for rough editing, I may have missed some things. As always, thanks to my beta, new-endings!

I. 

Konoha's investigative team arrived in the early evening, subdued and somber. Temari was grateful to see only familiar faces among them. She paused to question the Hokage's wisdom in sending Rock Lee, who had never struck her as particularly bright, but quickly quashed her concerns. Kakashi had sent those who would be best suited to proving Gaara's innocence and, strange as it often was to ponder, Rock Lee could be counted among his few friends. She had to trust that Lee would not be a hindrance to Gaara. 

Unfortunately, she was not the only one at the gates to greet the new arrivals. The team leader from Iwagakure had insisted on accompanying her to the gates. 

“Standard procedure,” Shinpiko said, failing to hide her smirk. “With the Kazekage suspected of treason, your village has forfeited all its power. As the injured party, Iwagakure has full control over this village. I can't allow you to meet any of the investigative team without an escort. We wouldn't want you attempting to influence anyone, would we?” 

Temari didn't respond, glaring straight ahead as the Konoha team approached the gates. 

“It must be difficult,” she went on, as though she and Temari were simply having a nice little tit-for-tat. “I mean, you're the interim Kazekage, but completely powerless. Can't give out orders, can't save your monstrous brother.” She shook her head sadly. “Truly, Suna never should have allowed that monster to be born.” 

Temari worked her jaw and clenched her hands into white knuckled fists around the small fan she held, hidden by the robes of office she had forced herself to wear. They smelled like Gaara—sand and warmth and the scrolls he was constantly pouring over. She closed her eyes and breathed in, grounding herself, refusing to rise to the bait. 

“Open the gates!” Shinpiko shouted, waving down to the Iwagakure guards who were standing sentry with Suna's shinobi. More Iwagakure shinobi had arrived since Gaara's imprisonment, so that now everywhere they went Suna's shinobi were being watched. 

Of course, there were still some secrets that Iwagakure did not know. Temari smiled to herself. 

As her only allies marched into her overrun village, several ANBU were already en route to the west to seek out any witnesses who would stand for Gaara. This was a war of wits and Temari knew she could win, even if Iwagakure had the upper hand. All she needed was to shore up her defenses, gather her allies to her, and collect the evidence she needed. Easier said than done, but not impossible. 

“Shall we go greet your guests, Kazekage-sama?” Shinpiko asked. Temari did not miss the mockery. 

Below, she could see that the Konoha team was being checked over. Passports were out and travel bags were open for inspection, while each new arrival was patted down. It was not the welcome Konoha's people were usually used to, but they bore it well. 

By the time Temari and Shinpiko made it to the gates, Shikamaru had arrived and the Konoha team had been approved for entrance into the village. 

“Good evening,” Shinpiko called. “Sorry about the rude welcome, but I'm sure you understand why it's necessary.” 

“Of course,” Sakura said stiffly. “We're sorry for your loss.” 

Shinpiko inclined her head, closing her eyes for a moment as though overwhelmed by the reminder. “Thank you. We appreciate your help in assisting us with this.” 

“We aren't helping you,” Sakura said, firm but gentle. “We are impartial. We are only here to find the truth.” 

Shinpiko seemed to lose her footing for a moment, but quickly recovered, giving Sakura an apologetic look that didn't reach her eyes. “Of course. I misspoke. I only meant that I am eager to find the Tsuchikage's killer, whoever that may be.” 

“Understandably so,” Sakura agreed. 

“Do you feel up to a debriefing tonight? Or shall we wait until the morning?” 

Temari caught Sakura's gaze for a mere second, but it was enough to communicate what she needed. 

“My teammates and I are eager to begin,” Sakura said breezily. None of them, save for Lee, looked eager for anything except perhaps a bed. Sakura did her best, but exhaustion was clear in the bags under her eyes, and Ino and Tenten both looked immeasurably tired standing next to Lee, who was as wide-eyed and alert as always. The only change in Lee's usual demeanor was his usual enthusiasm which had been replaced by an uncharacteristically blank expression on his otherwise expressive face. 

“Wonderful,” Shinpiko said. “I'm relieved to know that Konoha has sent such reliable shinobi. Please follow me. We have commandeered the council's rooms for our investigation. The Kazekage's offices have obviously been closed off for the time being.” 

“Have you begun any investigative work yet?” Sakura asked, following just behind Shinpiko. Tenten, Ino, and Lee following just behind her. Shikamaru cast a quick look to Temari, before he fell in line behind his teammates. 

“Only a brief interrogation of the suspect.” 

“You mean the Kazekage,” Lee cut in. 

Shinpiko turned to look at him, giving him a quick once over before disregarding him. “As of right now, he is not the Kazekage. There is no true Kazeakge of Suna.” She caught Temari's gaze, before turning away. 

Temari watched them go, her heart in her throat. She was less relieved than she had hoped she'd be upon seeing them. Even knowing that Shikamaru had been assigned as lead for this investigation did not ease her worries. Only uncovering the truth would give her any true relief now. 

II. 

Kankurou was pacing back and forth in Gaara's study, his hair in disarray from the amount of times he'd run his hands through it. He had always been the most impatient of them, but his absence during Gaara's arrest and being barred from entering his village upon his return had pushed him over the edge. Temari, for her part, kept a fine control over herself and was sitting at Gaara's desk, the only sign of her agitation the flicking of a small hand-fan, which snapped open and shut with satisfying clacks. Her leg bounced in time with the ticking of the clock. 

“Fuck, how long does it take to debrief someone?” Kankurou snapped, whirling on Temari. 

“Be quiet,” she said lowly. Her gaze slid to the closed blinds, the thick wooden slats hiding them from view. Beyond, she could sense someone watching the house. If they were smart, they would have listening devices. 

Kankurou cursed. “I just—”

“Shut. Up.” Temari rose to her feet, stalking from the room. “I'm going to bed.” 

“What?” 

“I'm. Going. To. Bed.” She gave him a pointed look, narrowing her eyes towards the window. “I suggest you do the same.” 

Kankurou closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he said thickly. “Bed.” 

They walked silently through the east wing, turning lights off as they went. Twenty minutes later, after putting on a show of getting ready for bed and allowing the house to fall silent, Temari and Kankurou made their way to the back of the house while decoys slept in their beds. 

The silence was heavy around them, thick like fog. Each creek of a floorboard made them tense. The last time Temari had been this uneasy in her own home, Gaara had been a toddler. She did not miss those days. 

At the back of the house in the east wing there was an oft forgotten room. They used it for storage, to keep old family keepsakes and relics from former Kazekage. The room was dusty and cramped, with barely any room to move, but at the very back, hidden behind fading portraits and old furniture, was a blank stretch of wall. Temari and Kankurou crept carefully through the room, walking along the ceiling to avoid any of the traps that had long been in place within. 

Temari found the small knothole in the ceiling before the stretch of wall after a minute of searching. It resisted her at first, but with a little more effort the knothole sank into the ceiling and the wall slid open. 

_Bingo._

She dropped down into the hidden room beyond, Kankurou following just behind her. 

The usually quiet grinding of the wall as it closed was loud in the silence. 

“Shikamaru knows where to meet us, right?” 

“Obviously,” Temari snapped, having no patience for inane questions. The space they'd found themselves in was a small room, just big enough for two people to stand in before it gave way to a staircase that spiraled down into darkness. “Come on.”

“You don't think they'll get caught, do you?” 

Temari shook her head. “Shikamaru's too smart for that.” 

“He is,” Kankurou agreed, “but what about Lee? Why'd the Hokage even send him?” 

“I don't know, but I trust he had his reasons. And besides, his teammate is with him.” 

“And Sakura.” 

“True,” Temari murmured, ducking her head low to avoid a beam. Kankurou didn't see it in time and there was a solid thunk behind her, followed by cursing. “But I think Tenten probably has a better handle on Lee than Sakura.” 

“Why d'ya say that?” Kankurou asked, rubbing his forehead and wincing. 

“She's his teammate,” Temari said simply. “I'm not really worried about Lee. At least not yet. He's a friend of Gaara's, we could use his support.” 

“I'm sure his heart's in the right place, but the rest of him?” Kankurou shook his head. “I dunno.” 

Temari sighed. “Let's wait to pass judgment on Lee's capabilities for later, shall we?” 

Kankurou grunted, lapsing into silence as they trudged on down the passageway. 

There were a number of hidden passageways within Suna—any hidden village worth its salt had them—but only five of those were truly secret, having gone completely undocumented in any blue prints for the village or its buildings. Suna still held fast to its old customs, passing on stories and legends through oration rather than the written word, and this was true of the five truly secret passageways hidden throughout the vast valley. 

The first had been built into the Kazekage's home and knowledge of it passed from one Kazekage to the next, as the mantle was passed on. The second was hidden within the offices of the Kazekage and, much like the first, knowledge of it passed with the passing of the title. The third and fourth passageways were hidden within the shinobi housing compounds and training grounds, shared as stories of secret missions amongst the ANBU, Jounin, and older Chuunin. The fifth and final passageway was hidden within the village greenhouses, passed from one civilian to the next as a useful gardening tip. 

Each passageway was connected through an intricate system of tunnels that ultimately led out of the village. They had been put in place as a safe guard, as a precaution in the unlikely event that the village was taken over and its people held hostage, they could still escape. The tunnels had never been used before in Suna's history. 

“Do you think we could get some light in here?” Kankurou asked as they hit the final stair and the passageway leveled out before them. It had been a twenty minute decent in complete darkness. Temari felt along the wall, searching for the torches she was sure would be down here. 

“Did you bring the matches?” 

Kankurou shuffled around, digging through his pockets. “Here.” 

The match lit with a sizzle, making stars dance in front of Temari's eyes. She blinked in the dim light, looking around. Leaning against the wall, just a few feet from where she stood was a clay pot and at its base several cloth wrapped sticks.

“Perfect,” she muttered, prying the lid off the pot. She was reward with the strong smell of oil. “There should be more of these all along the passage. We're making for the center of the village, just below the Kazekage's offices.” 

“Got it.” Kankurou picked up a torch and dipped it into the pot, swirling it around for good measure. “Should we take two?” 

“Yeah, just in case,” Temari said, dipping a second torch. She tapped it on the rim of the pot, letting the excess drip off. “We can light this one later when that one burns out.” 

“Roger that, sis.” Kankurou flicked the match at his torch. It lit up like a firework, illuminating a small stretch of the passageway and Kankurou's grim face. “Let's do this.” 

It would have been faster traveling from rooftop to rooftop. The tension in Temari's back worsened as they walked, the stress from the last few days clear in the knots she could feel every time she moved. She should have still been in Konoha, spending a blissful two weeks off from work with Shikamaru, not trudging through the underground passages in her village for a secret meeting to save her baby brother. 

At least Shikamaru was there. For her sake and for Gaara's. If anyone was smart enough to figure this out, it would be him. 

“How much longer?” Kankurou asked, an hour later. 

“I think we'll be there soon,” Temari said tiredly. It was supposed to be a straight shot, but maybe she'd remembered it wrong. She stopped, squinting in the darkness, her hand on the cool walls of the tunnel. “In times of crisis, the Kazekage must always look inward to his heart. The road best traveled is always straight ahead.” 

“What?” Kankurou groaned, rubbing his eyes. 

“Nothing. I'm just trying to remember...” She trailed off, taking the torch from him. “We're here. It's just up ahead.” 

“Finally.” 

They set off, picking up the pace as they neared the heart of the underground network of tunnels. 

There were torches already lit and the Konoha team was waiting for them, sitting on old, dusty crates. Shikamaru turned at their approach, a small smile chasing away the worry in his face. Temari barely registered what she was doing before she had dropped the torch and thrown her arms around him, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. 

She didn't let herself cry as he wound his arms around her, she couldn't break now. 

“We were starting to worry,” he murmured, running a hand up and down her back. 

“It took longer than we'd thought.” 

“The compounds are closer than the Kazekage Estates,” he said. “I should have realised.” 

Temari shook her head minutely, not quite ready to look up and face the gathered shinobi. Couldn't they just go to bed? Couldn't she just fall asleep in Shikamaru's arms and pretend that she would wake up back in Konoha to find all this a terrible dream? 

“You okay?” he asked. 

“Great,” she said tightly, her throat constricting. “Just great.” 

She took another minute, then pulled away. Shikamaru held her gaze, asking without words what he could do. Temari shook her head, moving away. He followed, standing just behind her, a silent support. 

“Sorry for the delay,” she said, voice clipped and stern. “Let's be quick about this. I don't want anyone to come knocking on any of our doors and find one of us missing.” 

“Right,” Sakura said, shifting in her seat. “Lee?” 

Lee pulled a notebook from one of his vest pockets, flipping it open and handing it to Sakura. He was unusually quiet and his wide eyes held a severity to them that Temari had never seen before. 

“I had Lee take notes for us,” Sakura began. 

“She let you?” 

“I told her I had difficulties remembering things,” Lee said sheepishly, his cheeks pink. “I suppose it is not a complete lie.” 

“She actually bought it?” 

“Amazingly she did,” Sakura said, smiling. “I imagine she's not taking Lee very seriously.” 

Lee lifted his chin. “That is her mistake.” 

“Damn right,” Tenten said, patting Lee's hand absently. “Lee's not the best liar, but I think it worked in his favor this time. All that blushing and stuttering made her think he was embarrassed.” 

“Whatever,” Kankurou muttered, flopping onto one of the crates which creaked ominously under his weight. “Let's just get on with this. We don't have time for chit chat.” 

“Right,” Sakura said, straightening. “Hokage-sama debriefed us before we left, but we didn't realize the scope of this until we got here. Shinpiko made it clear to us that nothing will dissuade her from believing the Kazekage's guilty. I could understand being upset about the Tsuchikage's death, but she seems a bit—obsessed with it being Gaara. We're already working under the assumption that this is a set up, but have we considered that it was an inside job?” 

Temari narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, the person who killed him. I asked her if they'd looked over the books for any suspicious travelers. She claims they did and there was nothing out of the ordinary. So then who else could have killed the Tsuchikage but one of his own?” 

“A coup?” Kankurou asked, frowning. “Then why frame Gaara? What's the point?” 

Sakura shook her head. “Not a coup. That would be obvious. Iwa would already have devolved into chaos by this point. But honestly, I don't know why any of his own would kill him short of a grab for power, but that's obviously not what's happening. His granddaughter has taken over as Tsuchikage, which she was already poised to do at the end of the year. It wouldn't make any sense to kill him just to get her into that seat six months faster, especially when, all things considered, Iwagakure was doing just fine.” 

“So why kill him at all?” Temari asked, understanding dawning. 

“Exactly.” 

“But—obviously to frame Gaara,” Kankurou pointed out. 

“But _why?_ ” Ino asked.

“I don't know why,” Kankurou snapped. “That's what you guys are here for, isn't it?” 

Temari placed a hand on Kankurou's shoulder, giving a gentle squeeze. “We've been a bit stressed, as you can imagine.” 

Sakura waved a hand. “It's fine. I understand you're frustrated.” 

“During the debriefing, Shinpiko gave us all the intelligence they had on the case and on Gaara—they had a lot of intel on him,” Shikamaru put in. 

“What do you mean?” 

“It was like they'd been doing research. A lot of its old—things from his past, names of people he's killed.” He shrugged. “Seemed strange to me. I mean, did she have the time to dig up all that intel on him before coming here? Or did Iwagakure already have a file on him? If so, why?” 

“Couldn't she have gathered up the intel on him over the last few days?” Kankurou asked.

Shikamaru shook his head. “She might be the one running the show, but her hands are still tied. There are laws covering this sort of thing, regulations and rules to follow. The injured party might be able to hold the power, but they can't run the investigation—she shouldn't have even interrogated him. Essentially, Iwagakure's shinobi are only here to oversee the investigation and run the village, while Temari's just the figurehead to keep the peace so the citizens of Suna don't get uneasy.” 

“So then she doesn't have access to information on Gaara from us?” Kankurou's expression darkened, his gaze focused on a spot on the ground. 

“She shouldn't have access,” Shikamaru clarified. “She could be bending the rules, but if that's the case I haven't seen it. I think we should assume that she already had this intelligence on him.” 

“Do you think Iwagakure has some secret plot against Gaara?” 

Shikamaru shook his head. “I don't think so. I don't know.” He huffed. “It's hard to say.” 

“What's so hard about it?” Kankurou grumbled. “They either do or they don't.” 

“It's not that simple,” Shikamaru said, exasperation edging into his voice. Temari rarely ever saw him so worked up about anything. It set her on edge, frayed her nerves more than they'd already been. 

“It really is not,” Lee agreed. “I will not pretend to understand what was said in that meeting, but even I can tell this is more complicated than your average diplomatic incident.” 

“Of course it is,” Kankurou said with a snort. “You think assassinating political figures and blaming another is average?” 

Lee shook his head. “Of course not! But if it were as you said, it would not be so complicated. Certainly not average, but not as complicated as it seems.” 

“Lee's right,” Tenten cut in, coming to his defense. “That meeting was—she talked a lot, okay? It was like she wanted to overwhelm us with all the information she had so we wouldn't know which way was up and which was down. She was trying to confuse us and lead us at the same time.” 

“Lead you? To what?” Kankurou's jaw worked, tension rippling across his face. 

“To her conclusion: that the Kazekage did this for economic gain.” 

“That's ridiculous!” Kankurou thundered, jumping to his feet. “Gaara would never—”

“We're not suggesting he would,” Sakura shouted over him. “We're stating the facts of the meeting.” 

Kankurou was breathing heavily, hands balled so tight it looked painful. 

“Kankurou,” Temari said, “calm down. They're trying to help.” 

Kankurou shook his head, letting out an angry huff. “I'm sorry. I'm just—this is just—it's been a long couple'a days.” 

“I'm sorry,” Sakura said, soft and gentle. She was watching Kankurou carefully, her expression shuttered and tight save for a flicker of emotion behind her eyes. “We're doing all that we can to help, but we only just got here and putting together the pieces is—I'm not going to sugarcoat this, it's not going to be easy. There is something nefarious going on here, of that much we already know, but who's behind it and what their purpose is... that's anyone's guess.” 

Kankurou deflated, rubbing his hands over his face. “We knew this wasn't gonna be easy,” he muttered. “It's just—he's our brother.” 

Temari could count on one hand the amount of times she'd seen Kankurou cry. It wasn't common for any of them to cry, but of the three of them Kankurou cried the least. The last time she could remember him crying had been shortly after Gaara's death. 

Kankurou's shoulders shook, almost imperceptibly as he fought against the tears now falling. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, but Temari could see the twist of his mouth. She felt her own throat constrict. 

“Hey,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and pressing a kiss to his hair. They were so rarely affectionate with one another—a habit instilled in them by their father and then reinforced by Gaara in his early years—but she held on to Kankurou as though her life depended on it, and maybe it did. It was an awkward hug, but Temari felt the weight of her own grief and fears ease as Kankurou cried, turning against her to wrap his arms around his big sister for the first time in far too long. 

She felt the tears burn her eyes before she could stop them, and then she was crying quietly into Kankurou's hair, whispering false promises that neither of them believed but that they both needed to hear. 

It was going to be a long, hard battle, but they couldn't give up so early on. Gaara needed them. 

“W-we'll be okay,” she whispered again, the words now sounding hollow to her own ears for how many times she had said them. 

Kankurou nodded mutely, taking in shaky breaths as his crying finally subsided. He pulled away, wiping at his eyes and not meeting anyone's gaze. “Sorry,” he muttered. 

“P-please, there is no need to apologize,” Lee said tearfully. 

“Let's just—just get on with it,” Kankurou said, waving a hand. 

“So what do we know for sure?” Temari asked. 

“We know that Gaara is innocent and that Shinpiko doesn't want to believe it,” Sakura stated. “Whether or not the rest of Iwagakure—specifically the new Tsuchikage is as set on his guilt is unknown. We have to assume that the entire village is just as convinced of his guilt though. We also know that Shinpiko has an unnerving amount of power for someone with such a strong bias, not to mention a large amount of information on Gaara himself. We know that she's trying to angle it so that it seems like this was a strategic move to build Suna's economy, and that she's trying to suggest that other shinobi were in on it.” 

“Wait, what?” 

“She hasn't acted on it yet,” Tenten interjected. “But she made it clear that she wants to lock up you two as soon as she can. If it weren't for the laws in place, she wouldn't have allowed you to become acting Kazekage in Gaara's stead. She only barely allowed those ANBU out of prison, and only because she did have the authority to place them on suspension.” 

“Damn her. Isn't there anyway to have her removed from the investigation?” 

“Not that I know of. If we could maybe prove that she was sabotaging the investigation, leading us to believe what she wants us to believe... But that'd be difficult to prove.” Sakura bit her lip. “I don't think anyone would buy it coming from one of us—Konoha and Suna have been too close for that. She already doesn't fully trust us.” 

“She doesn't?” 

Ino laughed. “She'd be a fool if she did. Honestly, I'm just glad we could pick up on it. She was trying so hard to be subtle, but she wasn't convincing anyone.” 

“That means you'll need to be more careful,” Temari said. 

“We were already going to be careful,” Tenten said. “It was just a matter of how far we could push things.” 

“How far were you planning?” 

“Far,” Shikamaru said bluntly. “But now we'll need to be more...strategic about how far we push things. We don't want her to know that we're on Gaara's side.” 

“What we need is for her to think we're on her side,” Ino said. “We need her to think she can trust us, maybe even manipulate us.” 

Temari frowned. “That'll be difficult. Konoha and Suna are close, and everyone knows about my relationship with Shikamaru. Unless...” 

“What? 

“We stage a falling out.” 

“Temari,” Shikamaru said warily. “I don't like where this is going.” 

“Gaara's life is on the line,” she snapped. “I'll do anything— _anything_ —to save him.” 

Shikamaru sighed. “Right. What did you have in mind?” 

“We could have a very public breakup,” she offered. “Maybe you could suggest that you think it's plausible that Gaara did it—”

“That won't work,” Ino said, shaking her head. “She'll see right through that. It's too obvious.” 

“Well, what do you suggest?” Temari asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Something more subtle,” Ino said, flipping her hair out of her face. She grinned. “Something with more finesse.” 

“I see. And you think you can do that?” 

“Oh,” Ino said, her grin growing broader. “Absolutely.” 

“Fine, just keep us in the loop. I don't want any surprises.” 

Ino gave a little two-fingered salute. “You got it.” 

“Sis,” Kankurou said, drawing Temari's attention, “it's getting late.” 

“Right,” Temari said with a nod. “Let's wrap this up. We've been down here too long. We'll meet again in three days, same time.” 

Everyone rose to their feet, stretching and yawning. 

Shikamaru gave Temari's hand a light squeeze before he followed his teammates down one of the passageways, leaving Temari and Kankurou alone. They waited in silence, listening to the fading footsteps of the five Konoha shinobi they had to put all their hopes in. 

“So,” Kankurou intoned, rising to his feet. He glanced at Temari, his eyes intent and calculating. 

“So,” she agreed, turning away. 

III.

The five members of Suna's council were sitting in narrow-eyed consternation when Temari walked into the room. They rose in quiet unison as Temari walked briskly, flanked by Kankurou and Baki, to her seat at the head of the table.

Before she'd taken her seat, Shinpiko opened the door, followed by her lackeys. 

The five seated around the table watched her as she walked the length of the room to the head of the table where Temari was taking her place. Temari ignored her as though she were nothing more than a fruit fly. It was the only pleasure she'd been able to find in dealing with Shinpiko and her cohorts. 

“This meeting has been called to discuss the current state of affairs within the village,” Temari explained, settling in to her seat. “Baki and I have gone over the projections for what Suna's current closure will do to us in the near and far future. We have come up with possible ways to ensure that Suna retains a working economy and to protect our resources.” 

Shinpiko cleared her throat from behind Temari. “Excuse me for the interruption, but I'd like to remind you that any action taken by Suna must first be approved by Iwagakure. As representative—”

“I am well aware,” Temari snapped. “However, as I haven't made any decisions, you needn't concern yourself just yet.” 

Shinpiko smiled. “Of course. It was just a reminder.” 

Temari waited a beat, casting a sidelong glance at Shinpiko before returning her attention to the council, none of whom were paying Temari any mind. They were glaring furiously at Shinpiko, a quiet anger hidden behind the carefully constructed emotionless mask Suna's people had all learned to cultivate through the years. She cleared her throat. 

“As I was saying,” she continued breezily, but with a steel edge to her voice. “We have gone over the impact this situation will have on Suna. It is going to be a difficult time until the trial—after which I am sure things will return to normal.” 

“I beg your pardon, Temari,” Shinpiko interrupted once more. 

Temari ignored her. “Once Gaara has been proven innocent and been reinstated as Kazekage, I am sure the new Tsuchikage will be more than apologetic for the trouble caused.” 

“You assume much,” Shinpiko snapped, stepping up to the table. “The only trouble that's been caused is by your _former_ Kazekage. Once he's been dealt with, Iwagakure will not simply allow your village to run as it once did. How could we trust you? How could anyone in the alliance?” Shinpiko gave a humorless laugh.

“Shinpiko,” Temari said, soft and sweet, “your bias against Gaara is quite worrisome. Surely you're more interested in true justice? You may go by the notion that he is guilty until proven otherwise, but I know my brother.” 

“Then perhaps you knew of his plans?” Shinpiko said archly, staring down at Temari. Temari met her gaze as though it were a kunai to deflect. “Perhaps you helped him. You weren't in Suna at the time of the attack—”

“Correct. I was in Konoha where countless people saw me who have no personal investment in my innocence. Please, if you would like, message the Hokage. I am sure he will gladly tell you as much.” 

Shinpiko huffed. “Just because you were far from the event, doesn't mean you didn't have a role in it. Everyone here is guilty by extension!” 

Before Temari could retort, one of the council members, Jaana, had jumped to her feet, face red and chest heaving. “How dare you? You come into our village and make baseless accusations against the man who saved us! You know nothing of the Kazekage, his family, or the people of Suna, yet you _dare_ suggest that we would plot against our allies.” 

Shinpiko was silent, staring at Jaana with her mouth pressed in a tight line. “You're right. Forgive me. I have let my feelings get the better of me.” She bowed shortly, barely lowering herself in deference. “The Tsuchikage's death has hurt us greatly, but I should not have allowed myself to—I have become blinded. Please forgive me.” 

Jaana's expression went slack with surprise, the anger of a moment before chased away by a blank countenance. Temari watched Shinpiko carefully, eyes narrowed. The emotion in her voice, the pain of loss was so stark that it unnerved her. Perhaps that was the way of Iwagakure, perhaps they were a people more emotional than Suna's, but something about it left Temari unsettled. 

“May we continue?” she asked after allowing the silence to stretch until it was nearly uncomfortable. 

“Please,” Shinpiko said. 

Jaana returned to her seat, nodding to Temari. 

Temari inclined her head. “As I was saying, my hope is that, in the near future when Gaara's innocence is proven, Iwagakure will be quick to rectify any hardships the village faces in the coming weeks. However, until that time we must prepare ourselves. Our first course of action is making an official statement to the village, wherein I would like to advise everyone to carefully ration. I think now is a good time to decrease the amount of water allotted per day—”

“But the summer heat is only just beginning,” Tobo said. “Surely we should wait. If the Kazekage's trial is a month from now—less than at this point—we shouldn't be concerning ourselves with rationing water.” 

Temari shook her head. “Gaara's innocence is a sure thing, but I will not risk the resources we have on that. Someone has clearly framed him for the murder of the Tsuchikage, which means that his trial may not go as smoothly as we would like. If we do not curb our water usage now, we will hurt more for it later. The same goes for food. My concern is informing the village without causing panic. People are already upset by Gaara's absence. He hasn't been seen by the public in nearly a week, so anything to suggest that Suna is not fairing well will not be well met, especially if Gaara isn't the one telling them.” 

“Could we disguise you as him?” Jaana asked. “Or perhaps even bring him out of imprisonment to make the announcement.” 

All eyes turned to Shinpiko. 

“Releasing him from prison?” Shinpiko asked, arching her brows. “So he can escape? Do you take us for fools? While I grant you that perhaps my feelings have swayed me where they should not have, I cannot allow him to be released even for a short period of time.” 

“If Gaara had wanted to escape, he would have done so. He has allowed you to imprison him,” Temari reminded her quietly. “Don't forget that.” 

Shinpiko's mouth twitched. “Ah, yes, a testament to his goodness, I'm sure. Well, whatever faith you have in him, I do not share. He is still the prime suspect in the Tsuchikage's assassination, after all.” 

“We will move forward without Gaara,” Temari said blandly, returning her attention to the council. “I could pose as him easily enough, but I do not like lying to the villagers. They are aware of the presence of foreign shinobi in the village, Gaara has not been seen and won't be until after the trials—it would be best to tell them the truth. For now, they will need to look to me as the Kazekage.

“I realise this situation is not ideal, but I promise to do my best for Suna and for Gaara,” she said, her voice soft. “That means I will not start by lying to our people. Please, have faith in me as your Kazekage.” 

There was a murmur from the council and everyone inclined their heads. “Yes, Kazekage-sama.” 

Temari felt a chill run down her spine at the echo of the title. She fought not to close her eyes against a tidal wave of emotion, squared her shoulders and pressed on. 

IV.

Ino was exactly as subtle as she had implied she would be. 

Temari almost forgot it was a plot when she saw Ino and Shinpiko laughing amicably together outside the shinobi housing compound. A thrill of terror had seized her before she'd remembered herself, but she didn't move. She watched Ino as she let a hand fall casually against Shinpiko's arm, watched as Shinpiko said something about the weather—Temari missed half of what she said as Ino shifted—and watched with baited breath as Shikamaru and Sakura joined them. 

Shikamaru kept quiet, kept his distance, while Sakura stood somewhere in between wary and friendly. It was a good act. 

Shinpiko spotted Temari watching them and gave a mocking wave, a small smile spreading across her face. No one else noticed. 

“Keep talking,” Temari said, mouth barely moving. 

She turned away, leaving the Konoha shinobi to their task. Difficult as it was for her to trust anyone else with her brother's well-being, she needed to trust them; she couldn't interfere. 

Besides, she had a mountain of work to take care of. The citizens of Suna had reacted as she'd anticipated to the news of Gaara's imprisonment—fear and anxiety had completely taken over the villagers, and though they bore it well and kept it well hidden from their foreign guests, it was not well hidden from Temari. 

“Tema—Kazekage-sama,” a Chuunin greeted her as she approached the Kazekage's offices. “New arrivals at the gates.” 

Temari rolled her eyes. “It must be the other investigative teams. I guess I'd better go find my babysitter.” 

“I've already sent a messenger to inform her to meet you there,” he said. 

Temari fought back a sigh. “Very good. Dismissed.” 

It was still a strange experience every time someone obeyed her without hesitation. It had not happened often enough yet for her to be used to it and she hoped it never got to that point. Gaara was the Kazekage, not her. She was a Jounin, she was an adviser, but she was not the Kazekage and she didn't want to be. 

At the gates, the Kiri and Kumo teams were waiting impatiently, both groups melting in the hot desert sun. Temari waited for Shinpiko to arrive, but did not spare her a glance when she did. The gates were opened and, much like when the Konoha team had arrived, the new arrivals were patted down and all travel papers were checked and double checked before they were allowed to enter the village. 

“My condolences,” Samui said to Shinpiko as she finished up with the guards. 

Shinpiko inclined her head. “Sad times have brought us together, but it is good to have friends to call upon when tragedy strikes. I hope you had a good journey.” 

“Shit was boring,” an unfamiliar Kiri shinobi said. “Too peaceful.” 

“Peace,” Shinpiko repeated quietly. “Peace is what we live for now, isn't it?” 

The man grinned cheekily. “Yeah, yeah, of course it is! I don't mean nothin' by it. Just statin' facts.” 

Shinpiko frowned. “I see.” 

“Peace is everything,” a Kumo shinobi said flatly. “We are here to uphold that peace.” 

“I'm glad to hear it.” Shinpiko's frown had disappeared, replaced by a triumphant smile. “Temari, call the Konoha team to the council room. It's time for an official meeting.” 

Temari narrowed her eyes. “I don't take orders from you,” she snapped. 

Shinpiko's smile turned sharp. “Actually,” she began. 

“Have one of your men get them. I'm busy.” Temari stormed off, completely forgetting to greet the arrivals properly in her anger. Dealing with Shinpiko day in and day out had thinned her already fraying nerves to the breaking point. She needed a moment alone, a moment away from the chaos and upheaval that had become her life. 

It was the middle of the day, but Temari was a Jounin worth her salt and Suna was her home: sneaking into the prison built into the northwest wall of Suna's valley was not difficult. 

Gaara had been placed in one of the high-risk containment cells at the top of the prison. Somehow, Shinpiko had known about the cell that had been specially made by Raasa when he'd been unsuccessful at killing his son. The cell had never been used. Temari hadn't even known about it until her world had been invaded and flipped upside down. 

She stopped before the heavy iron door of Gaara's cell, pressing the palms of her hands against the cool metal and feeling the faint lick of the chakra dampening seals on the other side. She sighed, letting her forehead drop to the door. “Gaara?” 

The silence that followed had her heart in throat, but before long she heard the slow shifting of someone beyond. 

She crouched down, pulling the little door open at the base of the door. 

“What are you doing here?” He sounded tired, worn down. It broke her heart. 

“I—” And just like that she felt stupid. Weak. He'd entrusted her with their village, entrusted her to lead them through this difficult time, and instead of being the sure big sister she'd always tried to be she was crumbling. She shook herself. “I wanted to see how you were holding up.” 

Gaara snorted. It was soft and lacked any conviction. “You know how I'm doing,” he said quietly. “What's wrong?” 

She sighed. “I just—I needed a break. That bitch, Shinpiko, has been dogging my every step and I just—I keep telling everyone that it's all going to be fine, that you'll be out of here soon, but we don't even know who did this or how?” 

“Temari,” he said, his voice like the hugs they never shared. “I'll get out of this.” 

“What if—what if you don't?” she asked, her voice breaking. She closed her eyes tight, trying to reign in her emotions but with little hope of succeeding. “What if I can't save you?” 

Gaara was silent. None of them had deluded themselves into considering only the best outcome, but voicing her fears made it all the more real. It was a chilling reality to face and it seemed unfair that Gaara was the one who she was unloading this all on. 

A cold hand touched her knee, just a gentle brush of fingertips. Temari sucked in a breath, choking back tears as she reached through to grip Gaara's hand. 

“Whatever happens to me,” he told her, his voice hoarse, “it's not your fault. We'll face my fate when it comes, but for now don't lose your head.” 

Temari gave a watery laugh, wiping her eyes with her free hand. “I feel like I should be the one comforting you,” she told him sadly. “You're the one in prison.” 

“Yes,” he said, wryly. “But you're my sister. I will always be here for you.” 

She swallowed past the lump in her throat, squeezing his hand. “I'll protect you, Gaara. I promise.” 

“Protect our people,” he told her. “If all else fails, protect them.” 

Temari shook her head. “I will,” she promised. She would protect him first though, always. He was her little brother, there was nothing she wouldn't do for him. Her moment of weakness had come, and with it came a new found strength. She had found her resolve again and she held fast to it, as she did to Gaara's hand. 

“I promise, I won't let anything happen to you or to our people.” 

It was a big promise, but Temari was ready for whatever they threw at her. 

V. 

“I think I've got her convinced,” Ino said, brushing her hair out of her face. Sakura was frowning down at Ino, sitting close. “Either she's buying my act or she's acting too. It's hard to say right now.” 

“Have you learned anything useful?” Temari asked, watching Ino carefully. Ino shook her head, sighing heavily. 

“Not a thing. She's trying to feel me out still, but I've got her. She thinks I'm the weak link, that she can get to me. Shikamaru's the one she trusts least, that much is clear—she's asked a lot of questions about you two.” 

Shikamaru grunted. “Of course,” he muttered. 

“What did you say?” 

Ino laughed. “I put on a good show. I made her think I was jealous—I mean, it's common enough for teammates to be involved with one another, and Sakura and I have kept our relationship quiet enough that I'm not worried she'll find out I'm lying.” 

“If she does you can just tell her I'm a rebound,” Sakura said dryly. 

Ino laughed, shaking her head. “I'd rather her not find out.” 

“So you played up the jealous teammate aspect?” Temari asked. “How did that go?” 

“I just dropped a few hints. Nothing too big. I don't want to be too obvious, so it was just little things—we don't get along well, but we're nice to each other because of Shikamaru. Secretly I think you're kind of a stone cold bitch and that Shikamaru could do better, that sort of thing.” 

“How'd she react to that?” 

“Oh, she loved it,” Ino said, leaning forward. “I could see it in her eyes. She's going to latch on to that for sure. The more she sees there's tension between us, the better. I think she knows that Konoha is Gaara's biggest supporter, so she's got her sights set on us.” 

“Has she asked about anyone else?” 

Ino nodded. “Asked a lot of questions about Lee and Gaara. She knew all about the Chuunin exams, how Gaara crushed Lee's arm and leg. Wanted to know if Lee holds a grudge—”

“I most certainly do not!” Lee exclaimed, jumping to his feet in indignation. “That was a fight to prove ourselves! He only did what he had to do!” 

“Calm down, Lee-san,” Sakura placated. “We know you don't hold a grudge against Gaara, but it might help if Shinpiko thinks you do.” 

Lee groaned. “I do not think that is a good idea.” 

“It's really not. Lee's a terrible liar,” Tenten agreed. 

“It's fine,” Ino said. “I'm doing everything I can to play to the fact that she isn't taking you seriously. She wants people she can manipulate to her way of seeing this whole situation, but she wants people with clout. She knows Sakura is close to Naruto, she knows Shikamaru is close to Temari, she knows Lee and Gaara have a bloody history, she knows I specialize in intelligence... She's looking for who she can manipulate. Honestly, I think Tenten's the only one not on her radar right now, but if she thinks she can play up the fact that Gaara nearly killed your teammate she will.” 

Tenten snorted. “I could certainly play that angle if I need to. I don't have any history with the Kazekage outside of his interactions with Lee, so it would be easy enough to go along with. There's nothing to contradict it, but with Lee...” She shook her head. “He can't pretend he has a grudge against the Kazekage. People know Lee—he doesn't hold grudges. He's too kind for that.” 

Lee beamed. 

“That's true enough,” Shikamaru agreed. “And like you said, Lee's a terrible liar. It would be best if we kept you away from Shinpiko.” 

Lee nodded emphatically. “I would most appreciate that. I want to do my best to help the Kazekage, but lying...” He shook his head. “I am simply not good at it.” 

“We understand, Lee,” Ino said. “Don't worry, though. Like I was saying, I'm playing up the fact that she isn't taking you seriously. I wanna keep her away from you as much as possible. She thinks you're a ridiculous idiot, but she thinks you're someone she can manipulate because of it. I'm making sure she knows your heart is too pure for any of her shit.” 

Lee gave a pained smile. “Good. I do not want to be subjected to any of her....stuff.” 

Ino laughed. “I think the best course of action is to take this slow. Let me get close to her, let me build trust. Maybe by next week we can bring Sakura and Tenten into the fold, but I need to feel her out first. And we need to be prepared—she could still be manipulating us in ways we haven't foreseen.” 

“Absolutely,” Temari agreed. “There's no telling what she's hiding.” 

“I don't like how much she knows about Gaara,” Kankurou muttered. “What's the Chuunin exams got to do with any of this for fuck's sake?” 

“She knows too much,” Temari agreed. She rose from her seat, shaking her head. “It's late. We've talked long enough for tonight. Let's meet again in three days.” 

“Roger that,” Ino said, saluting. She rose to her feet, stretching and the others followed suit. 

Kankurou made his way to the passage that led back to the Kazekage's home, waiting while Temari and Shikamaru said their goodbyes. 

It was bittersweet to have him in her village, but be unable to see more of him. 

“Get some rest,” he murmured. 

Temari snorted. “Are you saying I look tired?” 

“Yes,” he deadpanned. “You look like you've got the weight of the world on your shoulders.” 

She shrugged. “That's because I do.” 

“You don't have to carry it alone.” He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I love you.” 

Temari sighed. “Love you too.” 

Slowly he pulled away, following behind his retreating teammates. Temari turned, following her brother back home. 

VI.

“We need a contingency plan. A fail safe,” Baki murmured.

“I know,” Temari sighed, rubbing her temples. “Do you think I haven't considered the worst case scenario?” 

Baki shook his head. “No, Kazekage-sama.” 

“Don't call me that,” she snapped. “I'm not the Kazekage.” 

Baki inclined his head. “Do you have a plan in mind?” 

Temari huffed, fists clenching at her sides. “I've come up with a few, but we can't risk bringing too many people on board. We still don't know how she's managed to gather so much intelligence on Gaara.” 

“You think there's a mole?” 

Temari shook her head. “We need to consider every possibility. I would hate to think that any of Suna's people would betray Gaara like that, but...” She left the rest unspoken. Neither of them needed to rehash Gaara's past. 

“Who are you willing to trust?” 

“Honestly? You, Kankurou, Shikamaru.” 

“What about the rest of the Konoha team?” 

“I trust them as much as I trust any foreign ally, but I also don't want to risk it. We're talking about my brother's life here.” 

Baki was silent, staring at the wall. There was a shuffling outside, then a gentle knock. 

Temari froze. “Someone's coming.” 

“We can continue this another time, Kaze—Temari.” 

“Tonight. Take the tunnels from the training grounds to my house.” 

“Aren't they listening?” 

Temari gave a strained smile. “Shikamaru and Ino took care of it.” 

“Tonight then.” 

There was another knock against the wall, then Kankurou's voice. “Look, Bowl Cut, I know it's not easy, but you're gonna have to give it a rest. It's too hot out to train right now.” 

“But I must maintain my regimen!” Lee exclaimed. He sounded as though he were reading a script and Temari did her best not to groan. 

“You'll just have to make adjustments. Temari can't be bothered with this shit right now.” 

“Very well! I will just have to—Ah, Shinpiko-san, excuse us.”

There was a moment of silence. “Can I help you?” Kankurou ground out. 

“I was jut looking for your sister. She isn't in her office.” 

“Think she's at home,” Kankurou grumbled. 

“Really? So early in the day? Surely she's got work to do?” 

“I'm not her keeper,” Kankurou snapped. “If that's all—”

“Actually, it's not. Would you two mind accompanying me? It's just, I need to speak with the Kazekage—excuse me, the former Kazekage—and as has been pointed out to me by your sister, as the injured party, I am not allowed to have private conversations with him. Something about bias and attempting to sway the hearing.” 

Kankurou snorted. “Gee, I wonder why that is.” 

“I am doing my best to remain impartial, Kankurou.” 

“Could have fooled me.” 

“Well, I would be happy to accompany you!” Lee said in a tight voice. “As an investigator, it is my duty to ensure that the truth is uncovered!” 

Temari rolled her eyes. 

“You're committed to justice,” Shinpiko said carefully. “And peace?” 

“Oh, absolutely! It would be a great disservice to those who fought and died during the war if we let anything destroy the peace we have created!” 

Shinpiko's silence seemed to be laced with annoyance. “An honourable statement,” she finally murmured. “Well, then, I suppose we should be going. Hopefully your sister will have turned up by the time I'm through speaking with Gaara.” 

“I'm sure Temari can't wait to speak with you,” Kankurou drawled. There was a knock against the wall, then the sound of shuffling feet. “Let's get this over with.” 

“Yes! Let us depart for the prison!” 

Temari waited with baited breath as the minutes dragged by and the sound of retreating footsteps faded. 

“You should head home,” Baki said quietly. 

Temari nodded. “We'll continue this tonight.” 

“Understood.” 

Baki pressed his finger into a spot on the wall and it gave a soft click, a seam forming just beside him. He gently pushed the wall open a scant few centimeters to check the hall, then slipped out from their hiding place before sliding the wall closed behind him. 

Alone in the dark, Temari let out a sigh. 

It was going to be a long day.


	4. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unraveling a puzzle is so much easier when you have all the pieces before you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back! I did not mean to be gone so long, but life and all that. Mental health, work, etc. I have my update schedule all sorted, though, so the next update (which I have started working on) should come at the end of March before I fall into a proper bi-weekly schedule. This month and next are a bit busy writing wise for me because I have to finish the hardcore edits on Alliance, plus GaaLee Week is fast approaching, not to mention my H/D Big Bang! Yikes! Anway, this is a kind of short chapter, but things are gonna start to get more intense, so chapters will be much longer and more involved. Hope everyone enjoys! As always thanks to my beta, new-endings!

Heat blanketed her in a suffocating embrace, nothing like the warm comfort of waking up next to Sakura. Ino hadn't woken up next to her since the start of their mission and it wasn't just because of the oppressive Suna heat. 

It was offensive the way Shinpiko thought her surveillance of them had gone unnoticed. They weren't Genin, after all, and Ino was one of the senior operatives of Intelligence and Surveillance in Konoha. No one could get away with watching her without her knowledge—it was how she'd worked up the nerve to finally confess her long-kept secret to Sakura. Sakura was a talented shinobi, one of the best in Konoha, but even she couldn't fool Ino; she always knew when she was being watched. 

Shinpiko had eyes and ears all over Suna, a fact that left Ino unsettled. 

How had she managed it so quickly? And with so little fuss? Even with the Kazekage accused of assassination and treason, that wouldn't give Shinpiko blanket authority over the village, yet somehow, she'd managed to set up an incredibly in depth and illegal surveillance of Suna without anyone batting an eye. 

Ino's thoughts, moving slow like molasses from sleep, drifted. If Shinpiko were watching their every move, had she figured out about their secret meetings yet? Did she know they were working against her? If she was any good at her job, then she would at least suspect that they didn't trust her. 

A warm breeze found its way into her room from the open window. It was followed by a gentle knock at her door. Ino stretched, yawning hugely. 

“One minute,” she called. 

“Sorry to disturb you,” Shinpiko's voice came from the other side of her door. 

Ino raised an eyebrow. _Speak of the devil,_ she thought.

“Shinpiko?” she called. “Come in.”

The door opened and Shinpiko tentatively peered into her room. Her eyes were sharp, belying the timidness of the gesture. Ino smiled instead of rolling her eyes.

“Good morning!” she chirped, buttering on the cheerfulness.

“Good morning,” Shinpiko returned, more subdued, though Ino wasn't buying it. “I'm sorry to bother you, but I wanted to see you before your team began their work today.”

Ino ran her hands through her hair, finger-brushing it until the tangles from the night before had eased away. “Oh? Why's that?”

“It's just...” Shinpiko cast a quick look over her shoulder, then slipped into the room and closed the door behind her. “There was something I thought we should discuss.”

Ino waited, staring expectantly. Excitement coiled in her stomach, but her heart beat a steady rhythm.

“I'm concerned,” Shinpiko said when the silence had gone on too long. She bit her lip, glancing back to the door—it wasn't a good act. A seasoned Chuunin could have pulled it off, but that might have been the point. Was the game Shinpiko played more complicated than Ino realised? Or was she over thinking it?

“What about?” Ino asked easily, puling her hair back. Her bangs fell into her face and she peered up at Shinpiko with all the bright-eyed curiosity she could muster.

Shinpiko gave a great sigh before she marched over to Ino's bed and plopped down as though they were about to share their deepest secrets with one another. “This whole situation has been hard on Iwa, you understand. I just—I want what's best for us, for all of us. Peace is everything to me.” She glanced over at Ino, hesitation in every pore of her face. “I realise that I may have come across as...biased—I mean, I certainly never thought I'd be able to endear myself to Suna's people, but I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to bring justice to Iwagakure.”

Ino sat up straighter. Shinpiko sounded sincere, earnest even. “I understand. I would feel the same if it were the Hokage.”

Shinpiko nodded, turning to meet Ino's gaze intently. “I don't want to impede the investigation, you understand? I want only justice. I want peace, and that's why I'm concerned.”

Ino frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Truthfully, I _have_ been a bit biased, which is why I'm taking a backseat. Iwa was never meant to be investigating, you understand. We were just supposed to oversee things here. I let the loss of the Tsuchikage blind me, and it's because I was so blind that I can see—I can see how your teammate might also be blinded by his feelings.”

Ino's frown deepened. She was going to wrinkle prematurely if she didn't stop. She quickly smoothed her expression. “This is about Shikamaru.”

Shinpiko nodded. “I'm sorry. I know this must put you in an uncomfortable position, but I didn't know who else to discuss this with.”

“Are you saying you want him removed from the investigation?”

Shinpiko nodded, then shook her head. “I don't know. I just—I want what's best! Do you think you could work on a case that impacted someone you loved without your bias interfering?”

Ino thought for a moment. “You have a point, but Shikamaru is lead on this team. The Hokage specifically assigned him this mission.”

“Which is what concerns me,” Shinpiko said all in a rush, a whine creeping into her voice. “I don't want them to think I'm being biased by asking him to step down, but certainly he's too close to the investigation!”

Ino had spent every minute she could around Shinpiko building the perfect facade of the secretly jealous teammate. It had apparently worked like a charm. “Why are you telling me this though? I mean, there isn't anything I can do about it... Is there?”

Shinpiko shrugged, glancing away from Ino in thought. “Maybe just...suggest to the Hokage that his bias is impacting the investigation. If you do it, no one would question it, right?”

Ino hesitated. This was a test, just like everything Shinpiko had said or done over the past few days. If Ino misspoke, it could have catastrophic results. She gave a huge sigh, shaking her head to cover the long pause, a thought striking her. “What about Lee?”

Shinpiko frowned. “What do you mean?”

“If I bring this to the Hokage, he might ask about Lee's bias. Don't you think I should be asking to have Lee removed too? I mean, to be completely impartial we want everyone who has any close ties off the team, right?”

“Rock Lee isn't an issue,” Shinpiko snapped, her eyes flashing. Her expression immediately relaxed into a soft apology. “I'm sorry. I didn't to snap, I simply feel that Rock Lee hasn't done anything to suggest he'd pose a threat to the integrity of the investigation.”

It was enough, but Shinpiko had revealed something. What it was Ino couldn't say, but Lee was still on her radar despite Ino's best efforts. “You know about his past though, about how the Kazekage nearly killed him. You're not concerned that he might be biased against the Kazekage?”

Shinpiko shrugged. “If I thought he would impede the investigation, I would ask you to speak to the Hokage about him as well, but that seems excessive. Lee seems relatively harmless. A bit of a buffoon, if you ask me—honestly, they'll make anyone a Jounin these days!" She laughed, shaking her head. "But I don't think he's allowing his bias to color his judgment at any rate. He accompanied me yesterday, along with the Kazekage's brother, to the cells. He surprised me with his professionalism. But Shikamaru, well, you can't deny that his judgment is clouded.”

Ino's gaze flicked back and forth over Shinpiko's features. There was too much left unsaid for her to parse through what motivated Shinpiko to want to keep Lee there so desperately. Finally, she sighed and bit her lip, looking away. “Well, Shikamaru has been a bit attentive to the interim Kazekage.”

“Too attentive, don't you think?”

Ino nodded reluctantly. “Yes. And—not that I mind, because I don't—but for the sake of the investigation... I'll see if I can't talk to the Hokage.”

Shinpiko smiled, teeth flashing like a kunai. She reached out, taking Ino's hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Thank you, Ino.”

Ino returned the smile until her cheeks hurt. “Don't mention it.”

II.

“What?” Shikamaru gaped. The expression didn't suit him, but Ino supposed even the most unimpressed shinobi could be surprised every once in a while.

“You're not serious, right?” Tenten asked.

Ino met Tenten's gaze dead on, her expression flat and emotionless. “You caught me. I'm just kidding. Ha. Ha. What a laugh.” She snorted. “Unfortunately for us, I am dead serious. If Shikamaru doesn't step down, it could seriously jeopardize our attempts to prove Gaara's innocence. If nothing else, I need to at least make it look like I'm doing what she wants otherwise she won't trust me. I need her to think I'm easy to manipulate."

“But if Shikamaru steps down....” Temari had never struck Ino as the sort of woman to hesitate. She didn't hesitate in battle, she didn't dither when speaking, and she didn't take anyone's shit. Ino did not pretend to know her well, but she wasn't a senior Intelligence Operative for nothing. She knew how to read even the most difficult of subjects and Temari hesitating did not bode well for them. The Kazekage's imprisonment and upcoming trial, his rank and life on the line had effectively thrown Temari off her game. She was out of her element, like a Genin chasing a feral cat hellbent on eluding her every move.

“If he steps down you still have us,” Ino assured.

“That is right!” Lee chimed in. “We will not abandon the Kazekage!”

“But—”

“It's for the best, sis,” Kankurou interrupted.

“Isn't there any other way?” Temari looked on the verge of tears. Ino realised, with a pang of guilt, that it wasn't because Shikamaru was stepping down—he was Temari's rock. With this move, Shinpiko had effectively dealt a crucial blow to Temari, as well as the investigation.

Shikamaru sighed, reaching out to take her hand. “If this will help your brother, we should do it.”

“The Hokage may not even agree,” Sakura tried helpfully. It was a useless endeavor. If the Hokage didn't agree, it would be obvious that Konoha was not an unbiased party and could not partake in the investigation.

There was no way the Hokage wouldn't agree.

“No,” Temari said, expression going hard. “He'll agree. He has to. I—it's fine. Will you ask for someone else to join you?”

Shikamaru frowned. “I don't know who would be suited. I built this team based on very specific parameters that no one else fit. Most people don't know the Kazekage well enough, and even if the Hokage debriefed them, told them what we suspect, I wouldn't bring someone on board who's never interacted with him. His reputation still makes people wary of him, even in Konoha.”

“Of course,” Temari bit off. “Why can't they just accept that he's changed?”

“Because they do not know him,” Lee said. “But we do, and that is why we are the best people for the job.”

“And for those of us who don't know him particularly well,” Tenten added, “we still trust our friends who do.”

“So then it'll just be the four of you,” Kankurou muttered. “Four of you, and twenty of them. She's tryin' to take out the people she knows care about Gaara.”

“That's exactly what she's doing,” Ino agreed. “But she thinks we don't know that. I suggested that this would seem suspicious, like she's trying to sway things. Why not ask Lee to step down too? Why only Shikamaru? She got defensive, let something slip. I don't know why, but she wants you here, Lee.”

Lee huffed. “She cannot sway me! I would never betray the Kazekage's trust and friendship."

“That's the thing though,” Ino said carefully, “I don't know what she's playing at by keeping you here.”

“Does she think I hate the Kazekage for what happened during the Chuunin exams?”

“I can't say. Every time I've interacted with her, I've tried to focus on building up the fact that I don't like Temari, that I'm secretly in love with Shikamaru,” Ino explained, rolling her eyes. “She's buying it, that much is obvious. Otherwise she wouldn't have come to me with this suggestion. But it's strange that she's so adamant about you staying. She doesn't seem to have any faith in you as an investigator, but I can't decide if she's keeping you here because she thinks you're an idiot and is underestimating you, or if she honestly thinks she can manipulate you. It could be she thinks she can manipulate you because she thinks so poorly of you.”

“Is there any other reason she might want Lee-san here?” Sakura asked. She was frowning down at her hands, a crease between her brows just beneath the diamond on her forehead. Ino liked that diamond quite a bit; it was like a target for the best place to kiss Sakura when she wasn't paying attention, when she needed reassurance, when she needed Ino to sooth away her worries. 

She couldn't afford that now though. If she started giving in to that habit again, she might slip up in front of the wrong person.

“What other reason could there be?” Lee asked.

“That's what I'm trying to figure out,” Sakura said thoughtfully. “You haven't expressed any negative feelings towards the Kazekage—actually, you haven't expressed any feelings at all in front of her that I recall. She's treated you like...like a Genin, honestly. Like you're just excess baggage, and yet she got upset when Ino suggested you go home? Why? She hasn't tried to manipulate you yet, but wouldn't you have been the ideal candidate for that given your history with the Kazekage? If you are just useless to her, then sending you home wouldn't be a problem. If she's trying to manipulate you, she's taking her time about it. We only have so long before the trial, so why not focus on you first? Why did she target Ino who doesn't have a history with the Kazekage?”

“I will be extra careful around her,” Lee said, his expression fierce. “I will make sure she never catches me alone and that I do not make my feelings about any of this known.”

"What happened yesterday?" Ino asked. "She said you and Kankurou went to the prison with her." 

Kankurou snorted. "She just wanted an excuse to taunt Gaara," he growled. "She had all these questions, but it wasn't going anywhere. She only wanted to rub everything in his face." 

"It was cruel," Lee said, voice quavering with suppressed anger. "I had a difficult time keeping my feelings to myself watching her treat the Kazekage that way." 

"You did a good job though," Kankurou said with a nod. "She didn't bat an eye at you." 

Lee straightened up, proudly. "I told myself if I let anything slip I would have to do a thousand laps around Suna in the middle of the day! It was the only thing I could think to keep myself from defending the Kazekage." 

"If you slip up, it could be disastrous for Gaara," Temari said, voice tight. "Just think of that the next time she tries to talk to you." 

Lee's expression fell, his shoulders slumping. "Of course. I would never do anything to jeopardize the mission or him."

“For now just try to stick clear of her, Lee,” Ino said. “Until I can figure out what she wants from you, it's for the best if you just keep a low profile.” 

Lee gave a quick salute. “Roger!”

“I guess I better get started on that letter to the Hokage, huh?” Ino mused, standing up and stretching. She was anxious to get the letter written, loath as she was to leave the safety of the underground tunnels. She preferred them to her rooms in the shinobi housing compound where the weight of watchful gazes never left her, where she could never drop her guard.

Everyone rose, a new heaviness weighing them down as they stood. Shinpiko's plan, whatever it might be, was still too unclear, and news of Shikamaru's eventual departure had upset whatever confidence they'd had. It might have been most obvious in Temari, but Ino could see it in Kankurou and Lee, in Sakura and Tenten. It was a debilitating blow to their moral, and it would take a windfall of good fortune to bounce them back. The only thing keeping Ino's confidence afloat was the knowledge that once Shikamaru was gone Shinpiko would certainly look to her as the official team leader.

It would benefit them in the long run, the lone silver lining in this new development, and yet Ino still couldn't help but wonder at all the ways things could go wrong. 

III.

Shinpiko had split them up for the investigation under the guise of “working together to prevent bias”, which was, as Kankurou had put it, “a load of sun-baked shit on a stick”.

Judging from the way the other teams had been split up, Shinpiko didn't trust anyone not to be biased, but it certainly wasn't the bias she'd feigned being so concerned with. Shinpiko, Ino had to give her credit, was not stupid; she was calculating and intelligent, and perhaps better at covert-ops than Ino had first given her credit for. 

She would not make that mistake again.

“You find anything interesting?” she asked her companion, a Kumo kunoichi who looked like she'd been made of stone, though she did have a kind face. Ino liked her as well as she could like anyone she didn't know under the circumstances. 

“Whole lotta nothin', to be honest,” Rei said. She sighed. “This feels like a wild goose chase.” 

“Does it?” Ino asked innocently.

“Don't you think? I mean, chasing after proof of the Kazekage's—what? I mean, Shinpiko seems to want us to find proof of his guilt, but then aren't we supposed to be unbiased?”

“That was the point of splitting us up.” 

Rei snorted. “So she says. I don't buy it. Something's not right about her.”

“Really?” 

Rei opened her mouth, then shut it with a snap, narrowing her eyes. “She seems to like you though.”

Ino batted her lashes. “What's not to like about me?”

Huffing, Rei closed the file folder she had been skimming, getting to her feet. “Pretty faces should never be trusted.” 

Ino allowed herself to blush. “You think I'm pretty?”

“Stop it.” Rei squared her already square shoulders. “Whatever you're playing at, stop. If I have to report you to the Raikage for tampering with the evidence or swaying the investigation in any way—”

“I'm not swaying anything.” Ino's voice dropped to a hard whisper. “I have a job to do, Rei. Just like you. But why should I trust you?”

“I could ask the same thing of you.”

Ino shrugged, flipping her hair. “And so we have found ourselves in a stalemate. Rather unfortunate, wouldn't you agree?” Rei gave a short, stiff nod. “But if you don't trust me and I don't trust you, we'll never get anywhere.” 

“Where exactly do you want to go?”

Ino smiled. “To whereever the truth is, don't you?”

“Would be nice, yeah.”

“So, we could either go together, or we could go alone. However, there is always strength in numbers.” Ino felt her pulse quicken fractionally before she clamped down on it. She extended her hand towards Rei, waiting with baited breath. “What do you say? A truce in the name of truth?”

Rei contemplated her outstretched hand for a full minute, just long enough that Ino began to worry. Finally, she gave a gruff noise of assent and took Ino's hand in her own strong grip. She gave Ino's hand a cursory squeeze that came with a hint of a warning, though Ino did not flinch. They stared into one another's eyes for a long time, sizing each other up. Finally, Rei said, “To truth.”

IV.

The letter calling for Shikamaru to return home arrived three days into their investigative work. It was the first time Shinpiko had smiled since the investigation had gotten properly underway. Ino suspected that Shinpiko's sour mood had a lot to do with the fact that no one had uncovered anything particularly damning.

Ino wasn't ready to accept that as a victory though.

“We'll need to keep in touch somehow,” Shikamaru said, looking over the Hokage's letter.

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Ino snorted, shaking her head. “We can't exactly sneak things past that guard our gracious host has in place."

Shikamaru narrowed his eyes, staring out the slats of Ino's window. “I'll think of something. If it's urgent Konoha business Shinpiko can't stop it from reaching you and—assuming she is an honorable shinobi and not in on this plot against the Kazekage—she won't be able to read it. Official Konoha business—it would raise a lot of eyebrows."

“And if she does read it?”

“It'll be coded."

Ino rolled her eyes. “It's a good thing I'm more than just a pretty face.” She sighed. “All right. See what you can do. I have to take this to Shinpiko—I'm sure she's already seen, but needs must and all that.”

“Be careful with her.”

“Am I ever not?” 

Shikamaru shook his head. “I just... something about this doesn't feel right.”

Ino stared at him for a long moment, taking in the hard line of his back and the hunch of his shoulders. Shikamaru had always needed puzzles; had always needed strategies and challenges, but this wasn't like anything he'd ever encountered before. Ino could see in the line between his brows that Shikamaru was as stumped as the rest of them. And if Shikamaru was stumped, when they finally did unravel the puzzle, it was anyone's guess what the answer would be.

The unknown of it scared Ino more than she cared to admit, but there was nothing they could do.

“I'll tell Temari you said good-bye,” Ino said quietly. “In case you can't see her before you leave.”

Shikamaru didn't respond, and Ino left to go put on a show.

V.

“That's weird,” Ino muttered in someone else's voice, flipping back to the first document in the dossier she was searching through. Temari had given her instructions on how to find an entirely off the record room where the more delicate shinobi work was stored. Ino hadn't expected to find anything useful when she'd possessed an ANBU to infiltrate.

“What the hell is going on here?” she asked herself. She hadn't let Rei in on her little mission. She didn't trust Rei enough to let her in on their plans yet, and Rei would have been too obvious a look out, given her considerable height. Instead, she had Sakura watching over her body and keeping a close lookout for any trouble.

Ino slammed the filing cabinet shut, stuffing the documents she'd found into a bag.

She flipped the light, casting herself in darkness. A beat, then her eyes adjusted enough and she carefully found the secret door in the floor that led from the hidden room back into the main part of the Kazekage's office building. It was a room only accessible to ANBU, which had prompted the impromptu possession of the unsuspecting and currently suspended shinobi. It would be unfortunate if anyone spotted her ANBU host leaving with the documents, but at least if they were spotted, Ino would not be tied to the infiltration.

Slipping into the shadows of the main building, she slunk through until she reached a set of stairs leading up to a hidden room in the roof of the building where her real body was hidden with Sakura.

“Sakura?” she called in that unfamiliar voice.

“Here,” Sakura said, illuminating her hand in green chakra.

“I'm going to cancel the jutsu, are you ready?”

“Aren't I always?” Sakura asked. Ino could just make out her grin in the feint light.

Ino returned to her body, the sensation akin to swimming through ice cold water. She shivered as her consciousness returned to her own mind, opening her eyes in time to see Sakura's hand pull away from the now unconscious ANBU.

“Perfect. We'll need to get them back to their room.”

“Lee should be here any second. He'll be quick about it.”

Ino nodded, sitting up and crawling towards the ANBU to extract the documents. “I found something that might be of interest to us.”

“You did?” Sakura's voice rose, high with surprise.

“Yes, and I don't like what it's implying.”

Ino imagined that Sakura would be biting her lip about now, eyes downcast. She missed kissing away the worry in Sakura, and gave in to her desire, leaning forward to capture her mouth in a kiss. It had been too long since they'd been intimate, and Ino felt the need to just be close the same way she felt hunger. She cupped Sakura's face, kissing her soft and deep.

There was a strangled sound behind them, like a chipmunk, and Ino pulled away, turning to squint in the dim light of Sakura's chakra at Lee, who was covering his eyes with his hands.

“F-forgive me!”

“It's fine, Lee-san,” Sakura said, sounding petulant. Ino stole one last, quick kiss for that before turning her attention to Lee.

“Your weights off?” Ino asked.

Lee nodded, peeking out from behind his hands. “Y-yes, Ino-san. I left them behind as you instructed.”

“Good. Get them back to the western housing compound. They're in bungalow five, room three.”

“Roger!” Lee said, picking up the unconscious ANBU the same way Ino might pick up a vase of flowers. “I shall be quick!"

Lee disappeared before Ino could say anything else, gone in a gust of wind. 

“So, what did you find?” Sakura asked, turning towards her.

Ino sighed. “You are not going to like this.”

VI. 

“A plot? Against Gaara?”

“You mean, something other than all the attempts made on his life by our father?”

Ino spread the documents out on the crates so everyone could see.

“This explains the cell that was made for Gaara. The one _she_ knew about.”

“It explains a lot. I'm amazed this wasn't better sealed, to be quite honest.”

“The former council was full of idiots. None of them had ever been shinobi.”

Ino waved Temari's comment off. “It doesn't matter. What matters is that what's happening now was always meant to happen.”

Silence hit them like a blow to the face. Around Ino, everyone except Sakura was staring wide-eyed at the papers laid out before them.

“What—what do you mean? What's happening now? You can't mean—”

“I can.” Ino didn't have time to mince words. This was the first real clue they'd found, and it only proved that things were as bad as they'd feared. “This whole entire plot—framing Gaara for the murder of another Kage, blaming it on economics, the cell in his prison, calling for a quick trial with next to no evidence—it's all a part of this plan that your previous council created."

“But then—how—why—” Temari broke off, tears welling in her eyes as she floundered for what to say.

“I don't know exactly why this plan is being set in motion now—it seems strange, given that your last council was disbanded and most of its members are dead or senile. As for the how...” Ino shook her head. “We need to do more digging. I want to know how this plan got out, and who's pulling the strings now.” Ino took in a deep breath, hesitating for only a moment to get her bearings before she continued. “There's something else, though. This plan—it mentions you two.” 

Temari and Kankurou tore their eyes away from the documents to stare up at Ino.

“Us?” Kankurou asked, voice gruff.

“You two are his closest allies. The one thing that hasn't made sense in all this is that neither of you have been imprisoned. Yet.”

“You think we'll be targets.”

Ino pointed to the document before her, to one specific line of coded text that she'd deciphered just before their meeting. “I know you'll be targets. What I don't understand is why they've waited. They're playing at something, something big, and it's going to take one or both of you down, along with the Kazekage.”

“We need to do something—”

"There isn't anything we can do,” Ino cut Kankurou off before he could gain any steam. He was wound so tight that everything had been setting him off, and if he got going now he wouldn't stop. “Their plan is set in motion already. Don't you see? They have it all laid out, and we're just—we're just watching it all unfold. We're mostly just pawns, pawns acting out exactly what they need us to act out: a staged investigation to make it look like there's no bias.”

No one spoke for long minutes as Ino's words sank in. She stared down at the documents, wondering if there were any clues she had missed. If Shikamaru had been here, he would have seen something right away.

“I'll need to get this information to the Hokage, warn him—”

“Wait, we can't send this away. We need this! It's proof—!”

“If it stays here it could fall into the wrong hands and be destroyed. Besides, the Hokage is mentioned in this plan.”

“What?” 

“Originally, the plan was to kill the Hokage, not the Tsuchikage.” Ino shook her head. “I don't know if the change was because they felt that Kakashi-sensei would be too difficult to kill, or if it's because the people who set this plan into motion are too far from Konoha, or if—I don't even know! There are too many unknowns. We need to get this information someplace safe, and we need to warn the Hokage as fast as possible.”

“What if—what happens if we can't do anything?” Tenten asked, voice quiet. “I don't want to sound like a wet blanket, but this doesn't look good for the Kazekage.”

Ino caught Temari's eye, then Kankurou's. They both looked grim, hopeless and defeated. Ino didn't want to add to that, but there was little else she could offer up besides the truth. She sighed, shaking her head.

“No. No, it doesn't.”


	5. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naruto had always believed--in himself, in his friends, in a better future. He didn't fight in a war just to watch his friends suffer and the world fall into chaos. But what can he do against a plot greater than he could ever imagine?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my writing schedule has been completely fucked, but I am going to try to get back on track post Fanime and once my H/D big bang fic is closer to being done. Since I'd wanted to post something for my birthday (which is today!), at least I have this chapter ready to go! 
> 
> I may try to update Find Me and Alliance one more time before shifting gears, and I do have the next chapter of this fic written which will be posted once I've done some editing and get it back from my beta. That being said, there will be a decline in updates from me until sometime in June (not that I've been doing so great with them anyways). I do hope everyone enjoys this chapter. Things are starting to get really intense!

A stack of papers had fallen in the night, littering the floor of the Hokage's office. Sunlight streamed through the windows, dust motes glittering. Outside, birds sang as they flew overhead. 

Despite the calm of the morning, Kakashi was in no mood to appreciate it. Naruto had seen him mad—properly, visibly mad—only so many times. The narrow-eyed look he was giving the desk told Naruto to be wary of upsetting him today. 

“Sorry about that, Kakashi-sensei,” Naruto grumbled, pushing past him to begin organizing the papers. 

Kakashi heaved a sigh. “It's fine, Naruto. Just,” he paused, looking pained. “Try to remember that one day you are going to be responsible for all this.” 

Naruto gave him a cheeky grin over his shoulder as he tapped the stack against the only organized portion of the desk. “Don't worry, Kakashi-sensei. I got this.” 

The pained look on Kakashi's face did not disappear. If anything, Naruto's reassurance only seemed to make his concerns all the more stark, his gaze filled with an unspoken tension that Naruto didn't have to guess at. 

“Don't worry,” Naruto repeated, softer and more serious. “We'll figure it out.” 

Kakashi shook his head. “Eventually,” he agreed. “But will it be too late...?” 

Naruto gave a nervous laugh. “Oh, come on! Don't be like that. We'll definitely get through this—”

Kakashi held up a hand. “Now is not the time for a rousing speech, Naruto. We need to focus on what is, not what may be.” 

“But—” Naruto closed his mouth at the look Kakashi gave him, his shoulders slumping. He wanted to believe that everything would turn out all right, that this had all been a misunderstanding, but Kakashi's somber mood was weighing on him. He did his best to keep his mind from the thought of Gaara locked in a cell and his village taken from him; tried with all his might to convince himself that someday they would look back on this and laugh. 

He looked down at the papers before him—simple, innocuous, and all-together unimportant documents with no bearing on the current matter at hand—and felt the weight of it hit him all over again. They would never be able to look back on this and laugh; not when someone had been murdered, not when Gaara had been framed. If they got through this—because the possibility was realer than Naruto wanted to believe that they wouldn't—then the memories of this would only be painful. 

The calendar on the desk caught Naruto's eye, the date a stark reminder of how close Gaara was to permanently losing everything. They only had fifteen days left to find something solid to prove his innocence. His stomach twisted as the realization hit him: fifteen days was not enough time. 

“Have they found anything yet?” Naruto asked, voice horse. 

“Nothing I've been—” A knock on the door interrupted Kakashi. He turned, annoyance in his gaze. “What is it?” 

The door opened to reveal a pale and stricken Shikamaru. 

“Ah, you're back. I take it Shinpiko was pleased?” Kakashi said. 

Shikamaru nodded. “Ino's taken over for me,” he said weakly. “It's for the best. Shinpiko seems to trust her.” He sounded as though he were trying to convince himself to believe the unbelievable. 

“Did you learn anything of interest before you left?” Kakashi asked. 

Shikamaru shook his head. “It's exactly as we feared: Iwagakure is biased—or at least, the woman currently overseeing Suna is. She appears to have latched onto a theory and isn't going to let it go without solid evidence. Temari sent ANBU to find witnesses to Gaara's whereabouts during the assassination, but I don't know if that'll be enough.” 

Kakashi sighed. “Witnesses can be biased. She'll immediately suggest that whoever they find is only doing this because they're loyal to Gaara. Or worse, terrified of him.” 

“But,” Naruto cut in, “they were there! They saw Gaara! That's proof!” 

“No, Naruto. It's only a story,” Kakashi said. “Iwagakure won't accept anything but hard facts, and witnesses can be swayed.” 

“Then how are we supposed to prove anything?” Naruto whined.

Kakashi and Shikamaru shared a look. 

“Isn't it obvious?" Shikamaru asked. "The only way to prove his innocence is to uncover the true killer."

Naruto felt winded by the revelation. He looked back down at the calendar, at the characters which seemed to be mocking him now; laughing at his expense, and Gaara's. The little calendar seemed to say, “There isn't enough time in the world to save your friend.” 

And maybe there truly wasn't. 

II.

He stared up at the ceiling of his room, his mind drifting from one miserable thought to the next. 

Gaara's situation was a nightmare—Naruto didn't understand half of what was going on, but he didn't need to understand it to know it was awful. It shouldn't be this way, not after everything he'd done during the war; not after everyone they'd lost. 

He sighed, sitting up and staring down at the prosthetic hand of his right arm. Hadn't he done enough to make things right? Wasn't the world supposed to be a better place now?

“Sasuke,” he murmured, closing his prosthetic hand into a fist. He felt selfish for thinking about him at a time like this, when one of his other friends was in such peril. But thoughts of Sasuke were like weeds, always growing in his mind no matter how hard he tried to get rid of them. It was especially difficult to stay focused when he hadn't seen Sasuke for a long period of time. Weeks without Sasuke turned into months, which always led to his mind wandering back to him, a stray cat he'd fed once that wouldn't leave him alone. The last time he'd seen Sasuke had been the day before the End of War festival. Sasuke never stayed for the celebrations, but he always showed up beforehand to see Naruto.

They'd found a quiet place, high up on the plateau overlooking Suna, and simply sat watching the stars. Sometimes it was all Naruto needed to feel better. Sasuke's silence was always more comforting than any kind words of reassurance from Sakura or Hinata. 

Now, a small smile found its way to Naruto's lips at the memory, but he quickly shook his head. This wasn't the time for fond memories. 

There was a knock on his window and he looked up to see a Chuunin holding onto the window's ledge. 

“What?” he asked, pushing his window open. 

“Hokage-sama has requested your presence in his office. He says its urgent.” 

Naruto groaned. “I'll be right there.”

The Chuunin vanished in a puff of smoke. 

Urgent. That couldn't possibly be good. 

He quickly rummaged through his laundry for a somewhat clean shirt, threw on his trousers, and grabbed his jacket before vaulting out the window. His heart beat like a wild, anxious beast in his chest, while his mind offered up all manner of horrible possibilities. 

Naruto shook his head, trying to dispel his thoughts. He couldn't get ahead of himself. It might not be related to Gaara's situation at all—a laughable thought that not even Naruto could entertain for long. 

When he arrived, Kakashi was sitting at his desk, Shikamaru and Tsunade before him. Kakashi had spoken with Tsunade a handful of times for advice since Gaara's imprisonment, but Naruto hadn't been present for any of those meetings. He stopped short, swallowing the lump in his throat. Horrible scenario after horrible scenario raced through his mind as he met Kakashi's severe gaze. A grim shadow had fallen across Kakashi's face, an ill omen, a portent of what was to come that had gone overlooked for too long. 

Naruto wondered if there had been any signs at all; if there had been any hints at approaching disaster.

“There's news,” Kakashi said, cutting through the heavy silence. His words filled Naruto with so much tension that it felt as though he were suffocating.

“What's happened?” 

“Ino and the others found something.” Kakashi tossed a thick file onto his desk. The sound clapped through the office, making Naruto jump. The look on every face in the office left no doubt in Naruto's mind that whatever was in that file was not good. He stared at it, the pounding of his heart loud in his ears and his vision blurring as he focused on the thick folder. He didn't want to know what the documents they'd uncovered said, he didn't want to know if this truly was hopeless.

“What's in it?” he asked, anyways, forcing himself to be the hero of Konoha, unwavering and unafraid. 

“A plot.” Kakashi let out a slow, steadying breath. “A plot to unseat Gaara as the Godaime Kazekage by framing him for murder.” 

Naruto's stomach swooped, as though he'd fallen an impossibly long distance. He kept falling. 

“I—don't understand?” he croaked. 

“It's simple,” Shikamaru cut in, his voice tight. “The former council members of Suna never wanted him to be the Kazekage, but his popularity made it impossible for them to do anything about it. Especially after his abduction by Akatsuki. Unseating Gaara would take finesse. Cunning. So they planned to have him framed.” 

“So everything that's happened—”

“Not quite,” Tsunade said. “It seems that I was the intended target of this plot originally.” 

Naruto gaped. “They were gonna—there's no way that plan would have worked! You're way too strong, dattebayo!” 

The corner of Tsunade's mouth twitched up into a small, pleased smile. “While I agree, everyone has a weakness, Naruto.” 

Naruto straightened, lifting his chin. “Yeah, well, if they'd tried to kill you they'd have had to go through me.”

Again, Tsunade smiled. It was not a happy smile. “Even you have weaknesses, Naruto. Do you know what they are?” 

Naruto hesitated, but before he could answer, Kakashi cut in. “Whether they would have been successful in assassinating you or not, is not our concern. What I want to know is why this plan has now come to fruition and why it was Oonoki they killed. Why not kill me? Konoha and Suna are the closest of the villages, without a doubt. Surely they had to know that I wouldn't fall for this and that I would do all in my power to come to Gaara's aid."

“You're right,” Tsunade said heavily. “I don't like this. Gaara's former council was disbanded before they could see this plan through, and most of its members are dead now. So who's behind this? And to what end? If it's someone within Suna, how did they manage to kill Oonoki?” 

“This isn't a small operation,” Shikamaru said darkly. “It's bothered me since I first heard that the Kazekage had been framed. The proof is too weak—there's no way Kurotsuchi would have believed the Kazekage guilty unless someone was pulling her strings, feeding her lies.” 

“So you think someone in Iwagakure did this?” 

Shikamaru nodded. “It's highly likely.” 

“But to what end?” 

There was silence in the room, as heavy as the largest Rasengan Naruto could make. He felt hollowed out, as though someone had run him through. There was a gaping hole in his chest where the hope he'd held onto his whole life usually lived. Nothing short of a miracle would save Gaara, but there were no miracles on the horizon and time was running out.

III. 

Shikamaru was standing underneath the shade of a tree, staring out across the empty training field. He held a cigarette loosely between his fingers, as though he'd forgotten about it. Maybe he had. His expression was distant, his mind far off. Naruto recognized that look. Shikamaru was still in Suna with Temari and his teammates, the same way Naruto was always with Sasuke. 

“Hey,” Naruto said, coming up beside him. 

Shikamaru barely acknowledged him. 

“You okay?” 

He sighed, flicking the unused cigarette away. “No.” 

“We can't give up—”

“Stop.” Shikamaru clenched his jaw, glaring ahead. “I know what you're going to say, and I don't want to hear it. It's not going to change anything, Naruto. Maybe nothing ever will.” 

“That's not true! We're gonna figure this out—”

Shikamaru whirled on him, turning his ire on Naruto with such force Naruto was surprised Shikamaru didn't hit him. “It. Doesn't. Matter. Don't you get it? This—what's happening now—isn't something you can fix overnight, it's not something you can talk someone out of just because you believe it. Temari's brother could die, and all you've done is say 'It'll be okay, dattebayo!' Well what happens when it's not okay, Naruto? What happens when Gaara sits before the other Kage, on trial for a crime he didn't commit, and no amount of evidence can sway them?” 

Naruto knew he was grasping at straws, knew that hope was slipping even from his own hands like water, but he tried nonetheless. “But—but the documents your team found! That's gotta count for something!”

Shikamaru snorted. “Planted.” 

“What?” 

“They'll say it was planted. That Temari or Kankurou planted them to make it look like Gaara is innocent. Temari sent ANBU to the west to find a witness to Gaara's mission—the one he was on when the Tsuchikage was killed—but they can spin that too. They'll spin everything and Gaara will be lucky if he gets out of this alive.” 

Shikamaru was breathing heavy, hands clenched into fists, but the anger left him almost as quickly as it had come. He slumped against the tree, closing his eyes and swallowing thickly. 

“I can't stand being away from her,” he murmured. “But I wasn't even able to help. I couldn't—I couldn't figure it out.” 

Naruto shifted, looking away as tears welled up at the corners of Shikamaru's eyes. “It's not your fault. Whoever's behind this is probably as smart as you.” 

“Whoever it is makes me look like a fucking idiot,” Shikamaru said, laughing humorlessly. “And I still can't figure out the motive.” 

“Do we really need to? I mean, who cares why they did it?” 

Shikamaru cracked an eye open, staring at Naruto. “Motive is everything. It'll lead us to whoever did it, tell us if they're planning anything else, and it could be the deciding factor in Gaara's trial. Without knowing why this was done...” He pushed off the tree, taking several steps until he was standing before the discarded cigarette. “We're fucked. Royally and completely fucked.” 

He picked up his cigarette, shaking dirt off of it with a few idle flicks of his wrist and pulling a lighter from his pocket. Naruto watched him silently, the way the weight of Shikamaru's grief clung to him and made him seem smaller and more fragile than any shinobi had the right to be. 

“You can't just give up,” Naruto croaked. He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince: himself or Shikamaru. “You can't just let them win.” 

Shikamaru snorted, lighting the cigarette. “Never said I was giving up, but I'm not fool enough to believe that the odds aren't stacked against us.” He paused, taking a drag from the cigarette and blowing a cloud of smoke into the air. “You're training to be Hokage, to take Kakashi's place.” 

“What of it?” Naruto tensed, narrowing his eyes. 

“Do you really expect to lead this village by blind faith alone?” 

Naruto opened his mouth to protest, but he came up short. He was still learning about everything that came with being Hokage: the stacks of paperwork, the long hours at the office, the treaties, the diplomatic intrigue. It was never ending, but more than that it was endlessly confusing. He could do it, though. He was the strongest person in the village, after all. It made sense that he take the position.

Shikamaru snorted. “Hokage's not all about glory, you know?” 

“Of course I know that!” Naruto snapped, balling his hands into fists.

“Yeah,” Shikamaru muttered. He took another pull on his cigarette, making a face. “Temari would kill me if she saw me smoking.” 

Naruto snorted. “So?” 

Shikamaru glanced back at him. “So what are you going to do to make sure this gets resolved? You're so sure it's all going to be all right. What are you going to do, future Hokage?” 

Naruto didn't have an answer. 

Shikamaru took in another lungful of smoke, before turning his back on Naruto and walking away, trailing smoke as he went. 

By the time Naruto moved from his spot under the tree, the sky was dark and he still didn't have an answer for Shikamaru. 

IV. 

Shikamaru's words weighed on Naruto, heavy and harsh. The documents sitting locked in Kakashi's office haunted him. Tsunade's words dogged him every waking minute. The hollowness in his chest was no less after trying and failing to cheer Shikamaru—it was worse now for all the doubts about himself Shikamaru had inspired in Naruto.

He felt the tang of blood in his mouth as he bit his tongue on impact with the clone he was sparring against. The training area he'd picked was far away from the heart of the village, so he'd let himself go. It hadn't helped though. He spat onto the ground, leaving a nasty concealed glob of dirt and spit and blood to sit in the Konoha sunshine. It wasn't enough. None of it was ever going to be enough. He'd done everything— _everything_ —to save the world, to rid it of its hatred. Why was this happening? 

He couldn't talk to Kakashi about it without getting a lecture, and he couldn't write to Sakura without jeopardizing the mission. And the one person he truly wanted to see—to talk to; to ask for help; to sit with under the skies and forget about his worries; to do anything but this; to feel anything but this awful, consuming hopelessness—was far away. 

“Sasuke,” Naruto murmured. He rose to his feet, glaring for all he was worth at the ground, at the mess of blood he'd left behind. 

They'd done everything, given up everything. How was the world still so dark. He couldn't stand it. It was as though he'd never done anything so dangerous as fight a war or watched people die for the sake of peace. And Sasuke—hadn't he sacrificed, too? Hadn't he made his peace with peace? 

If Naruto could save Sasuke, he could save Gaara. 

He stalked from the training grounds, but his anger did not leave him. It followed him like a dog nipping at his heels all the way back to his apartment where he threw his door open with a little too much force and cracked the wall. 

“Dammit.” 

He closed the door more gently than he'd opened it, checking the wall over. It wasn't terrible, but he'd have to call someone to repair it. He sighed, running his hand through his hair, staring at the hole where the handle had dented the wall. He shook himself. 

He'd let Shikamaru affect him too much. Just because Shikamaru had lost faith didn't mean he had to. Despite his usual rational, Shikamaru was caught up in his own feelings, and Naurto couldn't allow that to bring him down. He wasn't going to allow himself to fail, not to save Gaara and not as the future Hokage. He wandered into the kitchen, trying to force his thoughts from the dark path they wanted to take, trying to focus on rekindling some sort of hope within himself and what he wanted for lunch. He was set on a quick cup of ramen, but judging by the packed fridge and entire lack of instant ramen, Hinata had been by recently. 

Naruto frowned at it, trying to remember when it had become normal for her to stroll in and out of his apartment whenever she liked. 

He didn't mind, he supposed. They were dating and had been for some time now—a year, if Naruto remembered correctly, but he wasn't entirely sure what constituted the start of their relationship. But a year was a long time to spend with anyone, so surely by now it ought to be natural for her to come and go as she pleased, to surprise him with thoughtful gifts like a fridge full of more than just ramen (even if it was his favourite food). 

He closed the fridge door, annoyed at the vegetables that he hadn't bought. If Sakura were here he could talk to her about Hinata—she was better than Sasuke at dealing with those sorts of things, and Sasuke never entertained the topic of Hinata for longer than a minute. Her name alone was enough to agitate Sasuke, and so Naruto usually didn't bring her up whenever Sasuke visited.

He sighed, staring at the fridge in frustration. The photos on the fridge stared back, smiling up at him from the past, when things were simpler. 

“What happened to us?” he murmured, touching the edges of the photo. 

It was no good. His mind went right back to the dark things he was trying to avoid. But certain dark things are unavoidable, they dig into the mind and cling like a leach, and Naruto felt the thoughts draining him with each passing moment. 

He found a pen and paper, instant ramen he'd had hidden in a top cabinet, and sat down at his kitchen table. He might not be able to get dating advice from Sasuke, but at least he could unload some of his fears to his best friend. Maybe, if he was lucky, Sasuke would even show up to help them out. 

They could certainly use all the help they could. 

V. 

Naruto did not feel light, per say, but a weight had been lifted after writing to Sasuke the previous day. It would probably take months for Sasuke's reply, but by then he was sure this mess would be sorted and Gaara would be back home and Kazekage once again. There would be damage, but nothing as irreparable as Shikamaru thought.

It wasn't as though they were at war anymore, after all. This wasn't a bloody battlefield where countless people had to lay down their lives. One person had died so far and, though it was a tragedy, it was one they'd move forward from with time. They had the evidence they needed to prove Gaara's innocence, all they needed was a little more to back it up. 

Tsunade and Shikamaru were already waiting by the time Naruto arrived at Hokage Tower. They seemed no less grim than the last time Naruto had seen them, and Kakashi was much the same.

“Naruto,” Kakashi said, heaving a sigh. “You're late.” 

Naruto gave an uncomfortable laugh in response. “Sorry, Kakashi-sensei. I had to stop by Hinata's before coming here.” 

“This is more important than you girlfriend,” Shikamaru snapped, but before he could gain any steam Kakashi raised a hand, silencing all further comment. 

Naruto took his seat, avoiding Shikamaru's gaze. Guilt settled around him, but he pushed it aside. He'd only gone to see Hinata to appease the guilt he'd felt over his annoyance with her and it had been a short visit: a quick thank you for filling his fridge, a reluctant kiss, and a promise that once things had blown over, they would go out on a proper date. 

Kakashi tapped the documents on his desk with an impatient finger, drawing everyone's gaze to them. “We haven't had any more news from Suna since these were discovered. At this juncture, I think it would be wise to make a solid plan for how to proceed without any further evidence.” 

“I agree,” Tsunade said. “We have very little time before the Kazekage's trial, and if we don't have a way to forestall this then the Kazekage is doomed.” 

“But the evidence—” Naruto blurted.

“Can be argued against,” Shikamaru interjected. “I told you, Naruto. They won't just buy into it. It'll look like it was planted! Convenient timing to discover this when most of the former council are dead or too old to testify—not that they would regardless. They wanted this to happen! How can we prove this wasn't planted?” 

Naruto hesitated. “Come on, man, the other Kage aren't stupid. They know Gaara!” 

“No, Naruto, he's right,” Tsunade said. “It's suspicious that these documents weren't discovered sooner.” 

“But—why would they be!? I mean, if the council was working in secret—”

“These documents were hidden, but it doesn't make sense that Ino was able to find them posing as an ANBU when the Kazekage and his family couldn't. The Kazekage has access to all records—or at least, he should have.” Tsunade leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “These documents may be genuine, Naruto, but even we can't be sure they are.” 

Naruto frowned. “You think it's a trick?”

“It could be," Kakashi said heavily. "Though I suspect they aren't fake, it still concerns me that we found them when we did. If the council was so determined to overthrow Gaara, they would have kept these under lock and key. If they'd been discovered....” Kakashi left the rest of the sentence hanging in the air, the weight of his unspoken words falling heavy around them. 

Naruto shook his head. “That's—that's too complicated! There's no way! That's evidence, the others will know this means Gaara's innocent!” 

“Dammit, Naruto,” Shikamaru growled. “Don't you get it? This isn't something you can talk someone out of! This isn't a fucking fairy tale, you can't play god and make everyone come 'round to your way of thinking just because you're a good guy. This is real and the Kazekage is going to die if we don't figure something out!” 

Shikamaru was on his feet, spitting mad. Naruto felt his own anger, as red hot as Kurama's chakra, and he jumped up to meet Shikamaru head on. 

“I know this is serious! I'm not an idiot! But I also know that we're not gonna get anywhere by giving up—”

“Naurto!” Kakashi called. “Sit. Down. None of us have said we are giving up. But we need to be pragmatic about this, and blind faith will get us no where.” 

Naruto huffed, falling back into his seat. “I'm not saying that we go on blind faith,” he grumbled. 

“No,” Shikamaru sneered. “You just expect us to go off flimsy evidence and hope for the best.” 

“Shikamaru, that's enough,” Tsunade said. “I realise you're more connected to this situation than the rest of us—”

Naruto snorted. “He's not the only one who cares about what happens to Gaara.” 

“Stop acting like a child,” Tsunade barked. “Shikamaru is the closest to this. His relationship with Temari means he has more at stake—”

“Well, Gaara's my friend! I have a stake in this too.” 

“Naruto, if you can't act like an adult then I will remove you from my office,” Kakashi said, so quiet Naruto almost missed it. He sat up straight, meeting Kakashi's steady gaze. “If I have to remove you from this operation, then you will also be considered unfit to take my place as Hokage. A true leader does not rely on blind faith, nor do they rely on strength alone. If you care about Gaara, then I suggest you get your head out of your ass and _pay attention._ This will be your only warning.” 

Kakashi fell silent as he stared at Naruto, waiting. Shikamaru and Tsunade watched in silence, gazes unreadable. 

Naruto's eyes burned, but he didn't allow himself to look away from Kakashi. Words stuck in his throat, a million different things that wanted to be said, vying to be the first thing on his tongue. He swallowed them all down, along with his anger and frustration, and nodded. 

“Good.” Kakashi relaxed a fraction, turning his attention back to the room at large. “A plan. Gaara is scheduled to sit before the other Kage eleven days hence. We need a way to draw out the trail as long as possible.” 

Shikamaru shook his head. “I don't see how. Both sides have very little evidence. Shinpiko has a sob story and a convincing motive for why the Kazekage would assassinate the Tsuchikage—though it makes no sense in the grand scheme of things. Why not kill Kurotsuchi as well? Why only kill Oonoki?” 

“That's a good point,” Tsunade said, as Kakashi hummed in agreement. “We could use that. I'll be sitting on the council along with Kakashi. Gaara will at least have the two of us on his side, and I'm sure I could speak with Mei. She and I have remained quite close,” she added with a little smile. 

“As of right now, that still only ensures two people on Gaara's side. I received word from Kurotsuchi this morning of the final count for the trial. She will be sitting it out, of course, but Gaara needs to be able to convince ten others of his innocence. You and I are already on his side, Tsunade, but two out of twelve will hardly make a difference. Even if we can get Mei to agree with us, that's still only one-fourth of the panel of judges.” 

“Who else is on the panel? Ay, I assume.” 

“Yes, the Raikage will be on the panel, as will the leaders of the smaller nations. Mifune will be heading up the panel of judges and, it is my understanding, that his will be the final vote. He is who we need to convince more than anyone else.” 

Tsunade was silent, mulling over this news. Shikamaru let out a shaky breath. 

“Is Mifune someone we can trust?” 

“He is an impartial party,” Kakashi said. “It's why his vote is the deciding factor. He has no investment in the outcome of this trial, but that also means he will be the most difficult to convince of either guilt or innocence.” 

“I'll speak with Mei. I can write her a letter this evening,” Tsunade offered. “Even if it's not much, one more person arguing in Gaara's favor can't hurt.” 

“Agreed,” Kakashi said. “Mifune will need to see that a majority of us are in favor of Gaara's innocence if we want to succeed here.” 

“But how will we buy time? We still have only about as much evidence as Shinpiko, but she at least has a believable motive. We don't know why someone would frame the Kazekage.” 

Kakashi sighed. “The only thing we know for sure is that whoever is behind this appears to be trying to unseat the Kazekage, but to what end is another matter. This plot that Ino uncovered, if it wasn't planted by the enemy, then it's likely this is a personal vendetta against Gaara.” 

“A vendetta against Gaara?” Naruto repeated dumbly. “But—why?” 

“You know what the Kazekage was like in his youth,” Tsunade said. “He made more enemies by the time he was twelve than most of us have by the time we're thirty.” 

“But he's changed!” 

“Of course he has, but you can't change the past. There are plenty of people still out there hoping to see those who caused them pain punished, but few would ever be able to do anything to Gaara of the Desert. At least, not on the battlefield. But politics...” Kakashi held up a hand, gesturing to the three of them. “Well, it seems whoever is out to get Gaara has developed the perfect plan. He's too powerful to take on, but he's not impervious to political harm.” 

“Do you think we can play that angle, Kakashi?” 

“That this is personal?” Kakashi leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully. “It's a possibility. We certainly need as many stalling tactics as we can come up with.” 

“We won't be able to drag this out forever,” Shikamaru said. “At most we'll probably only get a week out of this trial.” 

“A week is still seven days more than what we have now.” 

“So then our plan is to what? Bullshit? Feel out the others on the council? See if any of them can be swayed?” 

“Essentially.” 

Shikamaru closed his eyes, but nodded. “I guess we don't have any other options, do we?” 

“Not really,” Kakashi said. 

“We'll do our best,” Tsunade added. “You won't be able to make an appearance, but we might be able to bring you along, Naruto. Perhaps we can use you as a character witness for the Kazekage.” 

Naruto perked up. “Yeah! They'll have to listen to me—”

“Don't get ahead of yourself, Naruto. Remember, you can't approach this like a normal problem.” 

Naruto deflated. “Fine.” 

“But we can use you to help Gaara's case, even if it's just a stalling tactic while we figure things out.” 

Naruto hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “What happens if this doesn't work? Stalling them, I mean? And what if we can't make the others see that Gaara's innocent? What are we gonna do then?” 

The room fell silent, all eyes averted, no one daring to meet the other's gaze. 

Finally, Kakashi said, “Then Gaara is doomed.” 

VI. 

Doomed. 

Naruto had nightmares that night. Dark, quiet, poisonous nightmares. He watched Neji die again; he felt his own arm blown off; watched as he failed to save Maito Gai; watched as Gaara's own sand consumed him. Sasuke laughed in his ear, caught up in Obito's lies. Naruto had failed to save him too. 

“Did you really think you could ever be a hero?” Sasuke asked him, sword at his throat. 

Naruto woke, shaking and covered in sweat. Moonlight poured into his room from the window slats, making bars across his bed. He shivered, throwing his soaked sheets off himself. His shirt stuck to him, and he quickly removed it as he made his way to the bathroom. 

The sound of water echoed off the tiles, and memories chased away his dreams. He closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool wall as water rushed from the spout. The sound of a waterfall filled his ears, a distant, echoing memory that still hurt to touch. He'd lost Sasuke that day, and it had taken far too many years to get him back. 

He couldn't lose Gaara to whatever darkness still existed in the world. 

Below the sound of running water, before he could turn the shower on, he heard a knock at his door. He frowned, making his way from the bathroom into the hall. The knocking was persistent, almost frantic. His heart jumped into his throat as he walked the short distance from bathroom to living room. 

“Naruto,” Kakashi's familiar voice called. “Open up.” 

“Kakashi-sensei?” Naruto asked, opening the door. 

“Shikamaru's just been attacked,” Kakashi said, pushing the door fully open. He scanned the room, his Sharingan revealed and roaming the small living room. “It's safe.” 

Naruto gaped. “Shikamaru was attacked?” 

“Yes,” Kakashi snapped, moving into the kitchen. “The man's in custody right now. He—he bore the Suna emblem.” 

“What? But—”

“Silence.” Kakashi held up a hand, going as still as a deer being stalked. His eyes narrowed, a hand coming up to take a kunai from the pouch at his hip. 

The sound of metal sang through the air, followed by a muffled cry. Someone fell from the shadows onto Naruto's kitchen floor. Kakashi was on him in an instant, hauling the man to his feet and slamming him against the cabinets. 

“Who are you?” 

The man coughed, clutching the kunai that had struck his shoulder. “I—I won't tell you.” 

Kakashi's eyes flashed in the moonlight, his hand coming up to twist the kunai. “Who are you?” 

The man screamed, but it quickly turned into a strained laugh. “You're a fool.” 

“I'm fairly certain I'm not the one with a kunai in my shoulder,” Kakashi said, giving it another twist. The man howled. ANBU appeared in flashes, smoke filling the kitchen. 

“Hokage-sama!” 

“I'm fine,” Kakashi said. “Alert Tsunade—” 

The man's laughter overshadowed Kakashi's words, drawing the eyes of everyone in the room. 

“Yes, alert the former Hokage!” he cried, gleeful and delirious. 

“Go,” Kakashi said. “Naruto, come with me.” 

Kakashi dragged the man away from the wall, shoving him towards the door of Naruto's apartment, keeping a tight hold of his collar. He stumbled as Kakashi manhandled him through the small kitchen, his eyes glittering in the moonlight and a smile on his face. 

“We were so close,” he whispered, grabbing Naruto. Kakashi yanked him away. 

“Close to what?” Naruto growled. 

“Naruto,” Kakashi said, a warning in his voice.

“Close to fulfilling our mission.” 

“That's enough,” Kakashi snapped. 

“I thought you wanted answers, Hokage-sama.” 

“You're certainly eager to give them,” Kakashi murmured. “Strange for an assassin to be so chatty.” 

The man laughed. “Suna will have its day! We do not fear you!” 

“Suna?” Naruto repeated. “Kakashi-sensei—”

“Don't listen to him, Naruto.” Kakashi dragged him outside, Naruto hot on their heals, but the man did not subside. 

“Suna will have it's day!” he shouted. His voice echoed around the streets, and several lights went on. “You may have survived this, Hatake Kakashi, but you're the only one!”

Kakashi didn't respond as they made their way from Naruto's apartment. It did not seem to matter though. The man continued to rant, on and on, as they made their way to Hokage Tower. 

“One down, one to go!” 

“What's that supposed to mean?” Naruto snapped, unable to stop himself. 

“Naruto—”

“How the mighty do fall! Now the Legendary Sanin are no more!” 

Kakashi froze, stopping so suddenly the man tripped, falling to the ground. His collar, still in Kakashi's hand, pressed against his windpipe until he was choking, grasping at his throat desperately for air. 

“Tsunade,” Kakashi breathed. “Naruto, get him to Hokage Tower. Go, now!” 

Kakashi disappeared in a cloud of smoke, leaving Naruto standing in the streets with a raving assassin. 

VII. 

Naruto didn't want to see the body. 

He saw it anyways. Tsunade looked almost as though she were sleeping, peaceful and quiet. It was an easy illusion. Tears blurred his vision as he watched the medics cover Tsunade and carry her from her home on a stretcher. Kakashi stood within the doorway, watching the investigation unfold, his Sharingan taking everything in. 

“Hokage-sama,” an ANBU said, kneeling before him. 

“Report.” 

“The two men we took into custody have made their statements. We think it's best if you come to Hokage Tower immediately.” 

Kakashi sighed. “How willing were they to talk?” 

The ANBU looked up, meeting Kakashi's gaze from behind their mask. “Too willing.” 

“I see. Dismissed.” 

The ANBU disappeared. Naruto barely registered the conversation, still staring after the medics as they walked down the road with Tsunade. They were far off now and Tsunade was only a white sheet reflecting moonlight, but he could not shake the image of her. It was burned into his retinas like a brand. 

“Naruto,” Kakashi's voice disrupted his thoughts, and he turned to him. “Naruto, do not jump to conclusions.” Naruto shook his head, unable to speak. “Come on, we should get to Hokage Tower—”

“Hokage-sama, wait! We found something.” 

Kakashi turned. “What is it?” He was losing his patience, his voice clipped and strained. 

“Poison.” 

Kakashi let out a heavy sigh. “Put it in the report. I expect it on my desk no later than nine-hundred hours.” 

“Hai, Hokage-sama!” 

Kakashi grabbed Naruto's elbow, guiding him away from the scene of the crime and following Tsunade's mock-pallbearers down the road. They kept a good distance from them, but they were close enough that when one of Tsunade's hands slipped from atop her chest and fell to dangle from her stretcher, Naruto saw it. Her hand was ghostly white in the moonlight, bouncing along eerily as the medics carried her through the night. 

“H-how could they—”

“Naruto,” Kakashi said softly. “Don't jump to conclusions.” 

Naruto whirled on him, tears pouring down his face. “You keep saying that! But what other conclusions are there!? They're from Suna! The Tsuchikage's already dead! That man was there to kill you, wasn't he? And now sh-she's—they killed her!” 

Kakashi grabbed Naruto's shoulders, shaking him gently. “Look at me, Naruto. This is not the time to let your heart rule you. Do you understand me? Tsunade's death is a tragedy, but we cannot let this cloud our judgment!” 

Naruto shoved Kakashi from him, taking a step back. “All you care about are t-these stupid politics! This isn't a game! This isn't—t-this isn't—” Naruto's lungs constricted, the breath leaving him on a gasp like the hope he'd already lost but naively tried to cling to. He sucked in air desperately, leaning forward with his hands against his knees as his vision dimmed. 

“Naruto!” Kakashi's hand touched his back, but Naruto barely felt it as his vision went black.


	6. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's nothing left for him to do but run.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be the last update until after Fanime, which means you won't be seeing anything else from me until summer time unfortunately. However, I'm leaving you guys with what is my personal favourite update so far! Things are officially getting intense! I hope everyone enjoys this chapter and is looking forward to the next one! I will rearrange my update plans so I can hopefully get caught up on Find Me and Alliance quickly!

I. 

Lee ducked down a side street, taking the long way back to the shinobi compounds.

He'd figured out that Shinpiko's comrades were following him three days previous, and he was doing his absolute best to make sure they didn't know he'd caught on. He'd taken the same route to the shinobi compounds every night now since their surveillance had begun. He didn't know why they were watching him. Had Shinpiko figured out their plan? Had she found out about the documents Ino had uncovered? Did she know that Lee had been an accomplice in uncovering said documents?

Or was Shinpiko after something else? 

There were too many unanswered questions with far too much at stake, and Lee knew there was no way to solve the mysteries before him so he kept up pretense. If Shinpiko was going to watch him, then he was going to give her as little to watch as possible. When he wasn't searching for clues and facts to prove Gaara's innocence—an exercise in futility, according to Ino—then he was training.

There was a small training area at the back of the apartments where Lee had been set to stay. He and his teammates were housed in different parts of the shinobi housing compound, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by any of them when they'd first arrived. Shikamaru's room had been in an entirely different housing compound, closer to where Shinpiko herself was staying before he'd been forced to return to Konoha; Ino's room was also in the same compound, along with Sakura, though her room had been on the other side of the building from Ino's. Tenten and Lee had similarly been placed in a compound as far apart as possible. Lee had been given a corner room on the first floor, which was perfect for late night training but as far from Tenten as possible while still being in the same building. The separation from his teammates was unnerving; Shinpiko was trying to divide and conquer, but to what end? His thoughts were plagued endlessly by the knowledge he possessed that he couldn't allow the enemy to obtain, by the questions they couldn't know he was asking. 

It was common knowledge that Lee was the weakest link in any covert operation—he was a terrible actor, an even worse liar, and he wore his heart on his sleeve to such an extreme that he'd never be able to learn any other way of living. His feelings lived in the light of his eyes and the curve of his mouth, as much a part of his features as his eyebrows; keeping Shinpiko at arms length was the only guarantee that the mission, that _Gaara_ wouldn't be jeopardized. 

Lee was determined not to fail his team, but most importantly not to be the reason Gaara suffered any further. It kept him up at night, kept him focused and hardened during his days, kept him quiet and somber during their late night meetings, kept him out on the training grounds longer and longer with a fierceness to his practice that made every part of him burn. He had to be better than he'd ever been, he had to be ready when the time came. Failure was not an option; failure needed to be so far removed from him that it was not possible. It was a difficult challenge; failure had always been his greatest fear, but this time— _this time_ —failure was so unacceptable Lee had refused to even think the word lest it somehow damn him.

The moon was faint in the darkening sky, hanging high above his head and already waning from its fullness the night before. Lee smiled sadly at the moon, taking stock of his surroundings as he did so. His unwanted watchers were still there, hiding in the shadows of the village as night overtook it. Lee let out a deep breath, stepping into the training compound to begin an unforgiving workout session. 

The eyes on him did not leave him, even as he counted down from five-thousand. 

It was going to be a long night for them. 

II.

“So she's still got her goons tailing you?”

Lee nodded. “I am particularly careful when I leave at night. I am certain they do not know about our meetings.” 

“I'm sure you are, Lee,” Ino said with a sigh. “But that doesn't change the fact that she's watching you. I want to know why.”

“She wanted him here for a reason,” Temari said. “Your history with Gaara—it's not a secret you two fought at the Chuunin exams. People still talk about it even though they weren't there. You were the first person to ever survive Gaara's sand, the first person to ever get past it. She knows that, she has to know there's history there—"

"But—I do not hold a grudge against him! I never have," Lee reminded Temari, more defensive than he needed to be.

Temari held up a hand. "I know that, but does Shinpiko? That wouldn't be common knowledge to anyone outside of Konoha and Suna. She's got a plan for you, Lee. And I don't know what that plan is or what it hinges on, but she wants you here to use you the way she thinks she's using Ino.” 

Lee felt as though he were swallowing a mouthful of rocks. “I am being extra careful. I have not spoken with her since I accompanied her to the Kazekage's cell with Kankurou-san.” 

“Maybe you should stop being so careful,” Ino suggested, voice light and airy. 

“Ino,” Tenten said, a warning note in her voice. “Whatever you're about to suggest, the answer is no.” 

Ino huffed, her bangs flying out of her face before fluttering back into place. “You don't even know what I'm going to suggest.” 

“I don't need to know,” Tenten snapped. “If you allow her to get close to Lee, then the whole thing's a wash.” 

“Come on, Tenten,” Sakura said. “Have a little faith in him.” 

“I have plenty of faith in him,” Tenten said, heatedly. “But I know him best, and I know he's not about to play dress up with your new bestie, Ino.” 

“He is sitting right here,” Lee said, bristling. He didn't want to be the weakest link anymore, he didn't want to wait around for Shinpiko to catch him unawares and lay her traps. He wanted to do something, he needed to do something. He was sick of taking the same path home everyday; of waiting for a sign; of trying to find what couldn't be found. He was here for a reason, and that reason wasn't to be taken advantage of by someone hellbent on hurting someone he cared for. 

Tenten whipped around to look at him, her face closing off. “Lee, don't be stubborn.” 

“I am not being stubborn,” he said, lifting his chin. “But I would like to know what Ino-san meant. Why should I not be so careful with her?” 

Ino leaned forward, resting her chin in her hand. “Well, that's it, I don't know. She's got her eyes on you, but why is anyone's guess. If she can catch you on your own—or maybe even with Tenten—she might give something away.” 

“That's dangerous,” Temari butted in. “We all agreed at the beginning that Lee wasn't cut out for that—no offense, Lee, but I care far more about my brother's life than you practicing your skills at subterfuge.” 

Lee deflated a fraction, looking down at his feet. There it was again: his presence here was almost as much of a danger to the Kazekage as Shinpiko. Lee felt his chest tighten. Quietly, he said, “I do not want to do anything to risk the Kazekage's life.” 

“And especially now,” Kankurou added. “We have to keep her away from Lee at all costs. If she even suspects what we're up to—”

“She won't,” Ino said. “No one would ever suspect anyone to be that fucking brazen. Besides, she's still underestimating Lee.” 

“Is she?” Lee asked, hope sparking in his voice. “But then why does she seem so interested in me?” 

Ino shrugged. “Like I said, that's anyone's guess, but she doesn't think you're particularly capable. I do my best not to bring you up, but when you have come up in conversation I play up the idea that you're a lovable doof. Ridiculously strong, but not good for much. I've said a couple times you're dragging the team down, that we're not getting anywhere because you need someone to hold your hand through all this critical thinking.” Ino snorted. “She really loved it when I said that you were in love with Sakura.” 

Lee's face burned, mulling over Ino's words and the truth of them. 

“No one actually thinks that way about you, Lee-san,” Sakura said soothingly. 

“Except Shinpiko,” Kankurou corrected. 

“But that's what we want,” Ino added. “At any rate, we may be at a disadvantage not knowing what her interest in you is, but she's also at a disadvantage because she has no idea what you're truly capable of.” 

Lee nodded. “That is true. But why did you tell her I was still in love with Sakura-san?” 

Ino shrugged. “A hunch.” 

Sakura was frowning now too, and she squeezed Ino's hand in hers. “What sort of hunch?” 

“It's the same as me with Shikamaru and Temari. I let her believe that I'm in love with Shikamaru—she bought it and used it, as far as she thinks, to manipulate me. It's an easy maneuver and it's usually effective, but only if what you believe to be true actually is. I planted the thought in her head, so she played into my hands instead of the other way around. And she'll keep doing that if we're careful. She hasn't figured out all of our relationships yet, but she's trying to and I need to be at least two steps ahead of her so I can shape her views of us. 

“She's got her eyes on all of us, she's trying to figure us all out because we're the biggest obstacle in cinching a guilty verdict. She's going to try to get to each and every one of us, but now, with Shikamaru gone and me wrapped around her finger, she's focused on Lee.” Ino paused, giving Lee a critical look. “She's being careful about it, but it's there and I haven't been able to figure it out on my own. Maybe she wants me to think she doesn't have her sights on you. If I don't think she's interested in you, I can't warn you against her. For all we know, she could be doing exactly what I've been doing—playing an angle. Regardless, I'm trying to build up an image of you for her, one that's relatively believable. You did love Sakura once, and love can always be used against us. If Shinpiko has an interest in you, she'll look for whatever weaknesses she can find. I simply gave her one. So now we just need to see what she'll do with it.” 

“So, it's bait?” Kankurou asked. 

“Exactly.” 

Kankurou whistled. “She bitin' yet?” 

“We'll find out soon enough.” 

III.

“Lee, isn't it?”

Lee looked up at the sound of his name, forcing a blinding smile despite the way Shinpiko's voice grated on him. He hadn't liked her from the moment he'd seen her. Perhaps it was his own bias—after all, as far as Lee was concerned, she was the main cause for all of the Kazekage's suffering—but he was sure it went deeper. He was not always the best judge of character, but there were some people who rubbed him the wrong way no matter how hard he tried to like them.

Shinpiko was never going to win him over. 

“Yes!” Lee said, trying for enthusiasm. It sounded a bit strained to his ears, but he hoped she wouldn't notice. “Hello! Hi! I mean, excuse me—” He cut himself off, his face growing hot with embarrassment. This was why he was supposed to be avoiding her, but despite Suna's size, it was surprisingly difficult to stay away from the person overseeing a murder investigation. 

Shinpiko laughed. It sounded incredibly fake. “You're cute,” she said, which was probably the first and only time a woman had ever said that to him in Lee's memory. He felt like he needed a shower, which would go against Suna's water restrictions because he'd already showered for the day. 

“I—uh—thank you?” 

Shinpiko laughed again, covering her mouth with her hand in a girlish display that didn't quite have the effect she was hoping for. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't be saying that. After all, I am overseeing an investigation.” She smiled at Lee, as though asking him to partake in whatever joke she was making. He didn't find any of this funny, but he gave her a winning smile nonetheless. 

“It is never an inappropriate time to compliment someone!” Lee said, giving her a thumbs up. “I am very flattered.” 

“Well, good. I'd hate to get reported for being inappropriate with one of the investigators,” she said lowly. “Especially with your girlfriend.” 

“My what?” 

“Your girlfriend. The one with the pink hair, right? Sakura?” 

Lee's face felt like a beacon. It had been a long time since he'd thought of Sakura that way, but it still made him blush to think about those days. He'd been young and naive, sure that love was all flowery declarations and oaths that could not be broken. He hadn't known then what it meant to truly, deeply love another person, and he cringed at the memories of his childhood promises to Sakura. “O-oh, no. She is just a friend.” He remembered at the last moment to affect his voice with as much sadness as he could, but it was a near miss. 

Shinpiko blinked several times—was she trying to bat her eyelashes at him?—before giving an exaggerated gasp. “Oh, I'm so embarrassed. How silly of me! I thought—well, Ino had said you had feelings for her so I assumed that meant—” She broke off, giving Lee a pained smile that didn't reach her eyes. "What woman wouldn't be lucky to have such a strong shinobi like you vying for her affection?" 

Lee gave an awkward laugh, reminding himself to keep calm and go with the flow. Lee had never had anyone flirt with him, however, and was unsure how to proceed. “It is quite all right, Shinpiko-san! Nothing to worry about!” He rather hoped he could get back to his room soon. This conversation had already gone on far too long and Shinpiko's tactics made his skin crawl. 

Shinpiko sighed. “Oh, but I must have reminded you of something painful! To love someone who doesn't love you—that is too cruel!” 

He had to fight not to roll his eyes. “It is a burden at times, but love is a splendid thing and I would never resent my love for Sakura-san! She is a dear friend, and it is not her fault that she cannot return my feelings.” The words felt unnatural on his tongue, as though he were reciting them from memory. He truly hadn't ever blamed Sakura for not returning his feelings; he would never begrudge anyone for such a thing, but saying so to Shinpiko, knowing that his heart no longer yearned for Sakura, made it all feel like a lie.

Shinpiko reached out and patted his arm. Her touch turned familiar, soft and gentle; not a pat but a caress. “That is a beautiful sentiment. You must love her so much.” She gave him what she must have thought was a genuine and kind smile. It curled around her mouth like poisonous gas curling through the air. Lee felt hunted. “It must be a relief to know that the man who almost killed her is finally going to face justice, though.” 

It was as though he'd been dipped in an ice cold bath or missed a step going down the stairs. Caught off guard, his expression morphed, shock chasing away all the feigned friendliness of moments before. His breath left him on a gasp that he wished he'd been able to control. Shinpiko's eyes twinkled in the dying light of the Suna sun. 

“Forgive me, I shouldn't have brought that up. I just—well, I read about what happened during your first Chuunin Exams. How the Kazekage almost killed you and then how, during the attack on your village, he nearly killed Sakura. I just thought about how hard it must be for you, trying to maintain an unbiased stance on all this. I just—well, I guess I wanted to say I understand.” 

Lee felt numb. Her eyes bore into his face as though she could peel back his skin with just a look, her smile like a sickness he couldn't shake, the hand she had curled around his bicep burning like acid. He lifted his hand to hers—he thought to take her hand off his, but something stayed him. He gave a gentle squeeze, fighting the urge to crush her hand in his instead. This woman was as unkind as a knife in the back, and she fully intended to see the Kazekage executed. As he looked into her ruthless, cold eyes all his doubts left him. He swallowed. 

“Thank you for your kindness,” he said in a haze, his mind working.

“Of course,” Shinpiko said, her smile broadening. She took a step closer, crowding close, breasts pressing against the arm she hadn't let go. “If there's anything I can do, anything you need, please let me know.” 

Lee gave a mute nod, dropping his hand from hers, but not quickly enough to keep from grazing her chest. If he'd been less shell shocked; less caught up in epiphany and the devastating horror that had come with realization he would have found the whole thing far more embarrassing and uncouth than he currently did. She finally let go and took a step back, but his skin itched beneath his suite where she'd touched him, as though her hand were still there. 

“I should let you get back. It's getting late, after all, and I'd hate to interrupt your training.” 

She turned away, waving to him as she sauntered down the street, acting for all the world like the cat who'd got the cream. Lee watched her go, his expression going hard. He stalked down the road, making directly for the housing compound. He bypassed the training area, making his way through the halls of the building and straight for Tenten's room. He didn't bother knocking, too harried to care about decorum—after all, this was Tenten. She wouldn't mind. 

“What the fuck, Lee?” she snapped, dashing to her blinds and closing them quickly. 

“Shinpiko-san just revealed herself to me,” he announced. There was no room to be embarrassed about his encounter with her, not when every inch of him was overwhelmed by the righteous anger he'd touched upon when he'd realized her end goal. 

Tenten pinched the bridge of her nose. “Lee,” she said with gravity and a poor attempt at patience. “This could have waited.” 

“But this is it! This is what we have been waiting for!” 

“Keep it down,” she snapped. She crossed the room, brushing past him to press her ear against the door. 

Finally, his anger was chased away by the hot itchiness of embarrassment. He knew better than this, but he'd been so caught up in Shinpiko's act and his own revelation that he'd been reckless. He straightened, meeting Tenten's gaze. “I should have been more careful, I was just—”

“I know, Lee,” she said with a sigh. “Just... go back to your room. Do everything you normally do. We'll talk about this later.” 

Lee nodded, opening the door and slipping back out into the hall. He made his way to the other end of the building where his room was situated in complete silence. His routine had already been disrupted, but only by a few short minutes. With any luck, it would not raise any questions. He grabbed his things for a quick round of training and made his way back outside. 

The sky was nearly dark by now and the feeling of being watched did not steal over him as it usually did, but he knew it would come. It always did. Hopefully, it was a good sign that he didn't sense anyone watching him; with any luck, they'd have missed his visit to Tenten's rooms. Unless—he swallowed as a horrible thought dawned on him: what if they had seen him enter her room before she'd closed the blinds? What if they had gone to tell Shinpiko? 

He stumbled over a rock as he walked into the training area, dropping his water bottle which rolled away from him briefly before coming to a stop. Taking a deep breath, he forced his thoughts away from Shinpiko and her entourage. He set his things aside, righted his water bottle, and set about stretching. The feeling of his muscles working through the day's tension eased him, relaxing his mind and allowing him to clear his head. Stretching was always his favorite part of any training routine—it was always the first and last thing he did, and if he could fit a light round of stretching into any other part of his day, he would. 

His focus, however, did not last long, and he faltered as his senses sharpened on a distant presence: he had company.

He took a steadying breath, bringing his hands up as he sucked in the dry desert air. He let it out slowly, bringing his hands back down, completing his stretches. Another specter joined the first in watching him—this one to his left—but he didn't react this time. He bent down, pulling one of his legwarmers away from his leg to count his weights. 

He hummed thoughtfully. “That will not do,” he said, shaking his head. He had to act as naturally as possible, he reminded himself, and natural for Lee was talking to himself as he trained. He counted on his fingers, forcing himself to think out loud, even as his instincts shouted, “Danger! Quiet!” 

“I think another five-hundred should do it,” he said as loudly as he ever would, though his exuberance faltered in the face of his self-awareness. He didn't care if Shinpiko knew he talked to himself while he trained, but he did care if they knew about his weights. If she'd done any research on his fight with the Kazekage, she might already know about them, but she couldn't possibly know just how much weight he carried day in and day out. He hoped she wouldn't find out until it was too late. 

Late. The thought stuck in Lee's mind like food in his throat. Was it already too late? 

No. They had a plan in place, and no matter what, Lee would not allow that plan to fail. Come hell or high water. 

He pressed his mouth in a tight line, narrowing his eyes in determination as he carefully swapped out his current weights for heavier ones. Five hundred wouldn't be enough. He needed to be faster, stronger, better. Six hundred. Seven hundred. He couldn't let the Kazekage down, he couldn't let him lose his village, he couldn't let them tarnish Gaara's name. He couldn't let him die. 

He looked up as another presence appeared, his own attention on the moon now glittering in the sky above. He let out a careful breath. One-thousand was pushing it; one-thousand meant he would be feeling it in the morning, but Lee didn't care. 

He had a mission and failure was not an option. 

IV. 

Kankurou whistled. “I'll be damned. She really put the moves on you?” 

Lee was beat red, having just finished relaying the details of his earlier encounter with Shinpiko. He nodded sheepishly. “Unfortunately.” 

Kankurou let out an uproarious laugh, smacking his knee and shaking his head. “Fuck. That bitch really is a snake.” 

“Agreed,” Lee said, feeling uncharitable enough towards Shinpiko that he couldn't even fault Kankuruo for his choice of words. 

“We can't risk her getting too close to Lee, though,” Tenten interjected, biting her lip. “Listen—I'm not saying this isn't great, but if she gets too close—”

“Tenten,” Sakura said, injecting as much understanding into her voice as she could. “We know you're worried about Lee. I am too, and we won't push this any farther than is safe, but we need to know what she's playing at.” 

“And now we do,” Tenten snapped. “Temari would agree if she could have made it tonight. If Shinpiko gets too close—Lee, what if she goes beyond just rubbing your arm? What if she tries to kiss you? Or—or invites you up to her room?” 

Lee was sure his face was hot enough to cook an egg, but he bore it with aplomb. “I—I would do whatever I needed to do to—to uncover what we need. If it is to save the Kazekage—”

“Oh, god, don't.” Tenten held up a hand. “I know how you feel about this, Lee, but that's the problem. How you _feel._ ” She gave him a significant look. “Your feelings always cloud your judgment.” 

Lee knew she was right, but what else could they do? With Shinpiko's sights now set on him, avoiding her would arose suspicion. The risk involved was high, but he knew that and he would take every precaution because it was there only option. He said as much, keeping his voice surprisingly level, despite the embarrassment he'd endured for the last thirty-minutes and counting. 

Tenten gave a defeated sigh. “You're too stubborn. I just—I want you to be safe.” 

At this, Lee's expression softened and he reached for her across the short space that separated them. It had been five years, but Neji's death was still a loss that neither of them had quite healed from. Tenten's greatest fear was losing Lee as well, and he had never made it easy on her. She'd tried once, in a desperate fit on the one year anniversary of Neji's death, to make Lee swear he would never use the Eighth Gate. He'd almost given in, but then the image of Tenten in danger had come to mind and he'd known he could never keep that promise if it meant someone precious to him would die because he hadn't done something. 

“I promise,” he whispered, taking her hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. “I promise I will do my utmost best to be safe.” 

Tenten gave a watery little laugh, turning her hand up to lace their fingers. She looked away from the group, wiping her eyes as discreetly as she could. “You and your utmost best,” she muttered, fond and sad. 

“So, then it's settled?” Ino asked. 

Lee turned back to the group, nodding.

“Good.” 

V. 

Lee flipped through his notes as the other members of the investigative team settled in for a long overdue meeting. The Kazekage's trial was officially less than a week away, yet they'd had little to no time to go over any of their findings. Though there would not be much to discuss, Lee still found it strange that Shinpiko hadn't thought it necessary to organize a meeting sooner. She'd certainly seen to separating them all quickly enough to begin the investigation. 

He tapped his fingers anxiously against his open notebook, eyes scanning the page for anything he could bring to the table. He had nothing; only a gut feeling and faith in Gaara. That wasn't going to go over well, and they needed Shinpiko to think Lee hated Gaara besides. It was a lie so contrary to Lee's feelings that even the thought of it made his tongue feel heavy and clumsy in his mouth.

Sakura's hand found his, stilling the tapping of his fingers. “It's okay.” 

He glanced up to give her a sad smile, catching Shinpiko watching them for a fraction of a moment. He focused on Sakura, nodding to her. He did not trust himself to say anything. 

On his other side, Tenten nudged him as Shinpiko called them all to order. 

“Circumstances have made it difficult for us to organize a meeting sooner, so forgive me for the delay. However, the trial fast approaches and it is time we went over all the evidence gathered.” 

There was a rustling around the room, a few nervous looks shared between comrades, and then a Kumo shinobi spoke up. 

“Last week, I went over the mission logs for Suna. It seems the Kazekage has made a habit of leaving the village over the last few months—”

“That was explained,” Rei, Ino's investigative partner, interrupted. “The Kazekage has been making trips out west to assist the villages there. We already know this. That's his alibi.” 

The Kumo shinobi—Himaru, Lee remembered—snorted. “And are we not here to verify the truth of said alibi?” 

Rei opened her mouth to argue, but stopped short. She gave a sweeping gesture, sneering as she said, “Then verify away.” 

Himaru inclined his head, expression smug. “Last week, I focused my sights on verifying the truth of the Kazekage's alibi. Suna's logs are well kept, or so it would seem. I found it odd that the Kazekage was leaving his village so often, so I decided to do some digging.” 

“It's hardly suspicious for the Kazekage to come and go,” Choujuurou said, under his breath but loud enough to get a rise out of Himaru. The two had been paired off for the duration of their investigation, and Lee had been witness to a number of disagreements between them. 

“Something to add, Choujuurou? Perhaps your research was more fruitful?” 

“No, please, continue.” 

Himaru nodded. “As we all know, any shinobi village worth its salt doesn't keep all its records public. Of course, under the terms set in place after the war, Suna would have to forfeit any and all documents to us while under investigation. Nothing should be kept from us.” He paused here, looking around the room, keeping everyone waiting. “Yet I have discovered that not all documentation was provided to us as it should have been. This alone would be a strike against Suna and the Kazekage, but it is far worse when you look at the materials themselves.” 

He set a thin folder on the table before him and flipped it open. From where Lee sat, he could just see the top of the document and—though it was upside down—he could make out a few of the characters written there. 

“Covert operations during a time of peace seems odd,” he said to the room at large. “Unnecessary, even. What could the Kazekage be hiding? And why are there so many off the record missions being performed by the Kazekage himself?” 

A low murmur rose around the room. Lee did his level best not to look at any of his teammates, but it was a difficult thing. He watched Himaru intently, trying to decipher the expression on his face to no avail. The man was as unreadable as an unadorned wall. Blank-faced, pale and seamless, like a lie. 

It had to be a lie. 

“Interesting,” Shinpiko said, her voice like the purring of a desert cat. “Is there anything in this documentation with the details of the missions?” 

Himaru shook his head. “Unfortunately, it is only a log with the true dates and times the Kazekage was away from the village. They coincide with many of his most recent excursions, including an incomplete log during the time the Tsuchikage was murdered.” 

“Out of curiosity,” Rei said idly, looking at her chipped nails as though they were incredibly fascinating. “How did you get your hands on these super secret documents?” 

Himaru raised an eyebrow. “I'm a good shinobi. Surely you should know by now, Rei. The Raikage doesn't employ you to be sub-par.” 

Rei sneered. “The Raikage also doesn't employ you to be a devious little snake.” 

“Please,” Shinpiko interrupted, raising her arms in a gesture of surrender. “Please, let's not fight. Himaru's findings are not meant to upset, though I do have to question why you find them to be so.” 

Rei's gaze snapped to Shinpiko. “I don't like liars,” she said simply, turning her gaze back to Himaru. 

“Well, then you're in the wrong line of work,” Himaru quipped. He shrugged, closing his file and sliding it down the table towards Shinpiko. “I believe that's for your village's case against the Kazekage.” 

Shinpiko's fingertips stopped the file from flying off the table. Lee watched her fingers come down like a spider as it attacked a fly, a chill going up his spine. He needed to know what was in that file. 

“Wait—” Choujuurou said, rising to his feet. 

“Is something wrong?” Shinpiko asked, raising her eyebrows. 

“You're not permitted to handle the evidence. That's against the regulations set in place. I don't mean to suggest that your intentions are nefarious, but that evidence needs to be sealed until the trial.” 

Shinpiko gave a small smile, edged like a serrated knife. “Of course. Would you like to do the honors?” 

Choujuurou took the file from her as though it were an exploding tag. He set it carefully before him on the table, staring down at it like it might run away if he weren't watching it. 

“Well,” Shinpiko said, clasping her hands together. “Anyone else?” 

The door to the meeting room slammed open, an Iwagakure shinobi stumbling in with paper in hand, held out to the room like a precious and dangerous thing. 

“Shinpiko—news!” the shinobi gasped, leaning against the frame of the door for support as she caught her breath. 

Shinpiko's eyes narrowed. “Can't it wait? We're in the middle of a meeting.” 

“It's the Hokage—former Hokage, the Fifth. She's dead.” 

VI. 

Sakura stared, unseeing, at the hastily scrawled letter from the Hokage while Shinpiko watched their team from her seat at the long table. The meeting had ended abruptly, everyone but Lee's team vacating with mumbled condolences and whispered fears. 

“I am so sorry for your loss,” Shinpiko said thickly. There was nothing in her voice but remorse, a shared grief for the loss of a leader. 

Lee tore his gaze from Sakura to look at Shinpiko, who was watching them all with sad eyes. If she were acting now, then she was doing so effortlessly. 

“I understand that this will make things difficult—I don't think you'll be able to partake in the investigation any longer. Now that the Kazekage has been accused of murdering your own Hokage.” 

“Poisoned,” Sakura said numbly. “The bastards poisoned her.” 

“Sakura-san,” Lee began. 

Sakura shook her head, rising to her feet, hands shaking. “They poisoned her. They couldn't even—too weak to face her in a real fucking fight! How—how did they even get the poison in her sake? Do we know?” She turned to Shinpiko, as though she might somehow have the answers. Shinpiko was taken aback and only had silence to offer Sakura. 

“We shouldn't jump to conclusions,” Tenten said stiffly, staring down at the letter which Sakura had dropped on the table. Lee's gaze slid to it as well. He recognized the handwriting immediately—after all, he would know his sensei's handwriting anywhere. 

_Urgent: The Fifth Hokage has been murdered and the Sixth Hokage attacked by ANBU hailing from Sunagakure, in the name of the Kazekage. After careful interrogation and an autopsy, it is believed that the Fifth was murdered with poisoned sake. According to one Suna ANBU, who has since killed himself in an attempt to avoid further questioning, Temari of the Fan, diplomatic liaison and adviser to the Fifth Kazekage, as well as his elder sister, is guilty of bringing the poison into Konohagakure. Further, the ANBU claim to have infiltrated the village during her last venture here, under the guise of body guards._

_Immediate action should be taken._

Lee stared at the last sentence, reading it over and over until the words ceased to have meaning. 

“Of course,” Shinpiko was saying, “we're arresting Temari and Kankurou as we speak. I knew they had to be involved, but it was impossible to prove it—” She shook her head sadly. “I am so sorry this is what it took to bring them to justice, Sakura. I understand how close you were with the Fifth Hokage.” 

Sakura's face was streaked with silent tears, her lip trembling. “This isn't—this can't be real.” 

“Sakura-san,” Lee said, rising from his seat and reaching for her hand. The moment his hand touched hers, she broke, falling into him like a rag doll and sobbing openly. Her shoulders shook violently with the force of her sobs, and though Lee knew without a shadow of a doubt that her pain was real, he could not recall her ever seeming so fragile. At least, not since their youth. 

“L-Lee-san,” she cried, her voice at his ear, breath hot and ghosting against his neck. “I—how could they do this to her? H-he truly is a monster, isn't he?” 

Lee tightened his hold of her, turning his face into her hair and looking away from Shinpiko's watchful gaze. He could not stand to let her see Sakura like this. “Do not worry, Sakura-san. Justice will be served, no matter what.” 

“Lee's right,” Tenten said, getting to her feet as well. She stepped around Lee and tugged gently on Sakura.“Come on, let's get you back to your room.” 

Ino rose from her seat, expression grim. “Shinpiko, we'll discuss this more later.” 

Shinpiko nodded. “Of course. I understand you need to mourn. Please, turn over whatever evidence you've gathered to the other teams when you have a moment. I will need to confer with the other Kage on the matter, but moving forward, Konoha is now an injured party.” 

Ino nodded. “Understood. I'll be petitioning to stay on to oversee the remainder of the investigation alongside you, if that's acceptable. I am sure my teammates will wish to remain as well.” 

Shinpiko grinned. “I wouldn't have it any other way.” 

Lee stared at the empty space Sakura had been, her warmth leaving him in small increments until a bone-deep cold had replaced it. He could not move, despite wanting nothing more than to run far from the room and Shinpiko. 

“Lee? Are you all right?” 

Lee shook his head. “It is strange,” he said softly. “All this time, I did not want to believe—I suppose that is silly, but I had thought to trust Naruto-kun.” 

Shinpiko came around from the other side of the table, stepping in front of Lee. “It is a hard thing, accepting the cruel nature of the world.” 

Lee met her gaze, steeling himself and squaring his jaw. “The world would be a much kinder place without monsters in it.” 

He could not remember a moment where Shinpiko had ever been truly caught off guard. She was always ready for anything, always one step ahead; never fazed, never caught unaware. Not even when the letter announcing Tsunade's death had arrived had she been so thrown. Perhaps it was because she had taken him for a fool; perhaps it was because she still underestimated him. 

She let out a shaky breath, stepping into his space, the same place Sakura had been. Her proximity did not bring renewed warmth. “I could not agree more.” 

Lee gave a stiff nod, allowing his gaze to briefly fall on her mouth—her lips were thin and dry, the desert having done her no favors—before glancing back up to meet her eager gaze. “I should go.” 

“Should you? Right now?” 

“Sakura-san needs me.” 

Shinpiko's expression faltered. “Oh. Of course. I forgot—I mean, you should go to her.” 

Lee turned, marching across the room in a few strides. He stopped at the door. He glanced over his shoulder, watching Shinpiko. She was leaning against the table, staring at Lee in a way he was sure no woman had ever stared at him. He could not decide if it was genuine. “Is his death a sure thing now?” 

_Immediate action should be taken._

Shinpiko nodded. “I can't imagine the other Kage would allow him to live after this. Two Kage murdered a month apart from each other! Almost three! If your current Hokage weren't such a skilled shinobi—” She broke off, shaking her head. “I'd have thought they'd be lenient before, but now... Death is all that awaits him.” 

Lee nodded. “That is good to know.” 

Shinpiko smiled, then bit her lip. “Although... I wonder.” She pushed herself off the table, making her way back to him, a predator on the prowl. “What if he somehow finds a way to escape? What if—what if when he sits his trial he breaks free?” 

Lee narrowed his eyes. “Will his chakra not be contained?” 

“The most effective way to seal chakra is from a room. Handcuffs can break; seals on the body can be destroyed if one is determined enough.” 

“I see.” Lee didn't see, but he could pretend. At any rate, Shinpiko certainly believed there was a strong possibility that Gaara would escape before his trial. It seemed unlikely, given how close it was, but Lee knew Gaara's strength—perhaps better than anyone living.

“The prison is under guard,” Shinpiko said carefully, “and it would not be prudent for them to leave their post for long. Of course, there may be a period of perhaps—thirty minutes? Around midnight, when the guards are allowed a meal break.” 

_Immediate action should be taken._

“You should not be telling me this,” Lee pointed out. 

He did his best not to bristle as she leaned closer, pressing her mouth to his ear as she whispered, “It'll be our. Little. Secret.” Lee's gaze was rooted to a place on the wall opposite him, his whole body stiff as a statue as she placed her hand on his chest, her mouth moving again as she added, “We could have more secrets if you'd like.” 

He stepped away from her, glancing back at the door as though nervous. He was nervous; his heart wanted to beat free and wild, weightless and unchained, but he kept a tight control of himself. He allowed his body only to react as she expected, as she wanted. He blushed, adjusting himself and avoiding her gaze. 

“I should go.” 

“Midnight,” she said. 

Lee didn't look back. 

VII. 

In Konoha, Lee always knew when it was midnight because of the bell in one of the shrines near the edge of the forests. The bell was struck twice a day: midnight and noon. There were no monks left to pray within the shrines, but the bells always rang out across the village, faithfully. He missed their resonance now, the way the bells tolling seemed to run through the very marrow of his bones. 

Lee turned his head towards the dark sky. The stars in Suna were brighter than in Konoha and so numerous that Lee felt he could get lost in them. He clenched his jaw, turning back down the quiet street. The moon was black tonight, a new moon waiting to brighten the desert skies. The moonless night left the village's streets dark at such a late hour; it would be difficult, but not impossible for someone to spot Lee as he made his way through the village. 

Yet, there were no eyes watching him as took careful, measured steps down the road; not his usual stalkers from Iwagakure, nor Suna's ANBU. Though Shinpiko had seen to it that Suna's ANBU forces had been suspended, they had still worked in secret, as all good ANBU knew how. The only watchful gaze that haunted Lee's steps, the only eyes that cared what he was up to tonight were the eyes of the past Kazekage. The heavy gaze of the many large eyes of the monument carved into the plateau made Lee's skin crawl—a false alarm, he knew, but he had to fight to keep his nerves in check as Gaara's own stone eyes bore into him. The Kazekage's gaze, whether real or stone, never ceased to leave Lee's skin hot.

He kept his gaze forward, kept himself focused on taking weighted steps and watching as the prison drew closer and closer. He glanced towards the Kazekage monument, meeting Gaara's gaze. The eyes that had been carved into the rock were almost perfect, but stone could not convey the magnitude of Gaara's intensity, the weight of his eyes on the body when he thought Lee didn't know he was being watched. He squared his jaw, narrowing his eyes at the monument and nodding. Lee needed to be firm; he could not waver now. He would not. 

The prison was quiet when Lee arrived. The entrance was barred, locked up tight for the guards to take a short break. Thirty minutes, wasn't it? Lee wouldn't even need ten. 

Metal crunched under his hand and the door swung open on a creaking sigh. The noise was loud in the silence, echoing down the long corridor. 

Light flickered in the prison, torch flames blowing on the breeze that blew in after Lee. His footsteps echoed, step by step, through the halls. He didn't need to tread carefully anymore and he made his way quickly down the corridor until he came upon a stairwell. He was on the next floor in the blink of an eye, moving on to the next stairwell with only a glance at the cells on the second level. He made it to the fourth floor without incident or so much as a pause to take in his surroundings.

“Lee?” Temari's voice called from behind as he stepped onto the staircase leading to the fifth floor.

“Temari-san,” he said, turning back around and approaching the cell her voice had come from. 

Temari gripped the bars of her cell, staring out from her prison at Lee. She had manacles on her wrists, adorned with chakra seals, and the right side of her face was swollen where Sakura had punched her as Shinpiko's comrades escorted Temari and Kankurou to the prison. It had been an ugly day; one of Suna's worst. Lee had never seen so much despair in the village before this cursed mission. 

“How are you doing?” Lee asked, voice tight. 

Temari snorted. “Swell,” she said dryly. “How's Sakura?” Lee's face must have shown more than he'd intended because Temari sighed, looking down at his feet. “Does this mean we've lost Konoha's trust?” 

“Perhaps,” Lee said. “I cannot speak for the Hokage.” 

“But you can speak for yourself.” 

Lee hesitated, wary of the many other cells and the potential for eavesdroppers. “I do not have much time.” 

“Are you—is Gaara going to be okay?”

Lee turned away from Temari, clenching his fists. “No. Excuse me.” 

“Take care of him,” she whispered. “Please.” 

Lee didn't look back. 

The final floor of the prison was dark, with only one torch affixed to the wall. Lee kept his steps light, so that his approach was silent. There was exactly one cell on this floor, leaving the rest a long, blank stretch of wall. This was more than just a prison cell, it was a place to forget something unwanted. 

He stood before the door to Gaara's cell, a memory from the most recent festival surfacing. The Kazekage had looked happy, then. There had never been any indication that he'd wanted more strife or bloodshed in the world. They had shared a drink that night—water for Lee, of course—shared looks and hopes for the next year of building lasting peace. Lee had been happy, basking in the glow that surrounded them. 

He slid the little window at the base of the cell door open, the sound of metal sliding against metal grating like his anxiety. 

“Kazekage-sama?” 

There was a long moment of silence before the Kazekage's voice, heavy and cracking, spoke. “Lee? What the hell are you doing here?” 

“There has been another assassination: Tsunade-sama is dead.” 

Gaara was silent. Lee could just make out his silhouette in the blue light from the chakra dampening seals. He was lying on the little cot against the wall, propping himself up on one arm. After another moment, he shifted, his bare feet falling to the floor. He rose on unsteady legs, swaying slightly as he went. Lee had no first-hand experience with chakra dampening seals, but he knew they were brutal: they not only kept one from using any jutsu, but also from accessing their chakra at all. It was like having the life sucked out of you, little by little. 

“Who did it?” Gaara asked, falling to his knees at the door and staring into Lee's face. He looked gaunt in the faint blue light, sickly and weak. His eyes bright in the darkness of the bruises around them, almost unnaturally so, like a ghost or a demon.

“You did,” Lee said simply. “Or rather, Temari-san did on your behalf.” 

Gaara's expression, which was always difficult for Lee to read, tightened. He narrowed his eyes, staring past Lee. “I see. Then my death is a sure thing.” 

Lee stood up. “Please step back, Kazekage-sama.” 

“What are you doing?” 

“Shinpiko-san has suggested that the easiest way to put an end to this,” Lee explained, stepping forward, “is to kill you.” 

Lee's hands disappeared in a blur of speed as they shot forward, digging into the frame of the door. He could feel the skin of his fingers tear as his knuckles scraped against the rock the door had been set into; he curled his fingers around the frame of the door until it bent under his strength. The frame bowed, crunching in his hands, and he ripped the door from its place, hurling it aside as though it were as light as a pillow. The door clanged as it hit the ground, the sound echoing around the hall. 

Gaara stared up at Lee from the floor, wide-eyed and—if Lee was not mistaken—frightened. It was a stark moment, one that burned itself into Lee's memory. He stepped forward, and though the affect of the chakra dampening seals was immediate, it hardly mattered to Lee. Other shinobi relied on chakra, Lee did not. 

“Kazekage-sama,” Lee said, bending down and grabbing the collar of Gaara's shirt. “I hope you can forgive me for this.” 

“Lee, please—”

There was a moment where Lee imagined everything play out exactly as Shinpiko wanted: Gaara dead. Lee his murderer. War on the horizon. If there was ever a time to forget his sense of propriety, it was now. He took in one, long deep breath through his nostrils, and then, without so much as a warning, flung the Kazekage over his shoulder and stepped back into the hall. He still had twenty-four minutes before the guards were scheduled to be back, but he didn't want to risk taking the long way.

“Please hold on, Kazekage-sama.” 

“Lee, what the he—”

There was a deafening explosion of sound as Lee took off down the hall. Behind him, the floor burst, stone cracking inward and rocks flying through the air as he shot towards the wall like a canon. The Kazekage's words were lost as Lee ran. He threw himself against the wall with such force and speed that the thick stone seemed to disintegrate around him, as though it were made of water. Lee burst through the other side, into the cool night air, raining rocks onto the ground below. 

Lee sailed through the air, falling towards the sheer cliffs of the plateau. He landed heavily, feet and free hand punching holes into the wall for support. The Kazekage groaned, but Lee was already moving, racing along the wall towards the Kazekage monument. He didn't have time to check if his exit had alerted anyone to the Kazekage's sudden escape, but he was sure it wouldn't matter. There was not a shinobi alive who could keep up with him.

The stone figures of the Kazekage bore down upon Lee as he flew towards them. God-like and gargantuan, the former Kazekage were eerie specters watching over the village. Gaara's statue, however, was what Lee was focused on. He launched himself into the air, catapulting onto the carved hand of the Fifth Kazekage. Hidden in one corner, just beneath the shadow of the thumb was everything Lee and Gaara would need to survive on the run: Temari had packed everything they could possibly need and Tenten had placed the bag in the only place Shinpiko wouldn't think to look. 

Rescuing the Kazekage had been the purpose of their mission from the start. It was why Lee had been sent, when he was far from a diplomat or politician; he was their fail-safe. Should anything else happen, should they be unable to unequivocally prove the Kazekage's innocence, then Lee was Gaara's only chance at surviving. 

Tsunade's death had forced them to act sooner, but Lee had felt, deep in his gut, that this outcome had always been unavoidable. 

With their things in hand, Lee had no other reason to stall their escape. He looked up, realising belatedly that the Kazekage was squirming against him, trying unsuccessfully to remove himself from Lee's hold. Gaara's hands dug into Lee's back as he tried to push himself away from Lee to no avail. 

“I know this must seem like the worst possible course of action,” Lee said quietly. “But this is for the best, Kazekage-sama. Please, hold on.” 

"Lee, wait. What are you—"

Lee ignored Gaara and focused all of his chakra into his feet, until they felt as though they would ignite. He crouched low, keeping hold of the bag in one hand and tightening his grip around Gaara with the other. He took in a steadying breath and then launched himself so high in the air he sailed right over the stone heads of the Kazekage and flew straight onto the flat of the plateau. He landed with a crunch of stone, taking off a moment later. 

They were free. 

But Lee did not stop running until Suna was a spec in the distance. 

VII. 

Shelter was not easy to come by in the flat expanse of the desert. Lee was exhausted, having run full tilt from Suna without stopping. The only saving grace was he hadn't needed to open any Gates during the escape—using the Gates on the run would be too much of a risk to his health, but if their escape had been compromised, Lee wouldn't have hesitated. 

Hours later, the sky still dark but with a gray hue lightening the horizon at Lee's back, he found an outcropping of rocks jutting from the earth. They'd passed dunes and plateaus and even a small village during their high speed trek, but Lee had pressed on, determined to put as much distance between them and Suna as possible. The farther away from the village and Gaara's jailers, the better. 

As they came upon the rock formation, Lee slowed to a stop, panting heavily and sweat pouring down his face. 

“Lee,” Gaara said hoarsely. “Put. Me. Down.” 

Lee didn't need to be told twice. He set the Kazekage down gently, tottering a bit as he straightened. It had been a long time since he'd been in dire need of going all out like that, but he'd been diligent in his training, proof solid in that his endurance and speed had lasted him as long as they'd needed it to, but he could go no farther. He stumbled forward, Gaara catching him in his arms before Lee could hit the ground. 

“Forgive me,” he said shakily. “I have not run like that in a long time.” 

Gaara hummed, helping Lee to stand and pulling Lee's arm over his shoulder. “Give me that,” he said, reaching for the bag. Lee didn't have the energy to argue. Behind Lee, he heard the all-too familiar sound of Gaara's sand slithering along the cracked and dried earth. They'd left behind eastern dunes of sand and found the flat earth of farther west, which meant the threat of attack was significantly diminished with such distance between them and Suna. Lee didn't outright discount it, though—a shinobi could never drop their guard, after all. 

Once hidden by the shelter of the rocks, Gaara helped Lee to sit. Lee's legs, shaking like an earthquake, nearly gave out as Gaara helped him to the ground. 

“Thank you, Kazekage-sama.” Again, Gaara did not respond. He pinned Lee with a severe look, staring into his face with narrowed eyes and a thin press to his mouth. Lee gave a sheepish smile. “You are upset.” 

Gaara's nostrils flared. “Upset.” He repeated the word as though it had personally set him up for the Tsuchikage's assassination. He took a step back, his gaze still on Lee as he lifted his hand, calling sand to him. Slowly, as though waking from sleep, sand began to trickle up from the ground, rain falling in reverse, until it formed a familiar eye. He sent the eye skyward, watching it for a long moment while he collected himself. 

“My chakra has returned,” he said quietly. “I thought I was going to die in that cell.” 

Lee's heart skipped a beat, his stomach a mass of knots. “We would not have let that happen.” 

Gaara glanced at him. “Clearly.” 

“I am sorry for not saying something sooner. I could not risk it in case Shinpiko-san or her guards were eavesdropping.” 

“And so you let me believe you'd come to kill me.” 

“I am not proud of that,” he said, the knots in his stomach turning into a cloying sickness. “But it was the only way.” 

“Is Tsunade really dead?” 

“As far as we know. We received word earlier today, during a meeting. The Hokage had Gai-sensei pen the correspondence.” His mind offered up the image of the words that had told Lee in no uncertain terms that they could not wait to act any longer. “This was always the plan: in the event that we could not find the proof we needed, I would break you out of prison and we would escape.” 

“So this was on Kakashi's orders?” 

Lee shrugged. “It was my idea, but he agreed.” Lee hesitated a moment before adding, “I would have done it even if he had not agreed.” 

Gaara snorted. “So the Hokage doesn't believe I'm guilty of yet another assassination?” 

“Absolutely not!” Lee said, heated. “He knows you are a good man, that you would never do anything like this! There is a plot against you, Kazekage-sama. We all know that, and we will not be hoodwinked by any of the lies we are being told!” 

The silence in response to Lee's words was broken by a soft sound, like the whisper of the breeze whistling through the trees in Konoha. Lee, despite the weakness in his legs, jumped to his feet and was at the Kazekage's side in seconds. There were tears in Gaara's eyes, but he quickly turned away from Lee, hiding his face in his hands. Lee had comforted many friends in moments of heartache, but he had never comforted the Kazekage—the Kazekage was always strong and steadfast, brave and unshakable. Lee had never seen him cry, not like this: with shaking shoulders and small gasps that he tried to keep within; with all the weight of his hurt hunching his shoulders so that he curled in on himself. 

Lee reached out, because it was all he knew. His fingers brushed the cotton of Gaara's tunic, the only warmth he'd been afforded in the cold, dank cell of his prison. Carefully, Lee stepped closer, until he was pushing the limits of propriety. 

“Kazekage-sama,” he said, soft and sad. 

“Don't call me that,” Gaara growled. His voice was harsh to mask the breaking of his heart, but Lee could not be fooled. He cast aside all reservations, putting his arm around the Kazekage and pulling him close, hot tears in his own eyes now. 

“I am sorry for reminding you of what has happened,” he whispered. “But you will always be the Kazekage. Something stolen from you is still yours, and we will get it back. I promise.” 

Gaara pulled free of Lee, glaring up at him. “I don't need to hear empty platitudes, Lee. I know what this means.” 

“Forgive my rudeness, but you clearly do not if you have already given up,” Lee said, angry and frustrated beyond measure—not with Gaara, but with the state of things, with the unfairness of the situation. There had never been a time in his memory that the Kazekage had given up—not even when war was on the horizon and he had to lead an army against an impossible foe. The Kazekage had a heart full of hope, and to see him lose that was like a blow Lee could not recover from. “Please do not give up. Please, Kazekage-sama, this is your chance! With you free, we can find the proof we need to bring the true criminals to justice and return your village to you! You are not doomed, there is still hope so long as you have your life and your freedom.” 

Gaara wiped furiously at his face, not meeting Lee's gaze. “You are a fool, Lee. This plot against me has grown insurmountable. We will find nothing—”

Lee clenched his fists. “If that is how you feel, then you are right. If you have given up hope, then so be it! But I am not ready to give up. I will not boast of things that I know I do not possess, so if you do not wish to try then I cannot say what luck we will have. I am not good at solving puzzles, I do not have much of a head for politics, but I will still try for you. But if you do not help me...” Lee sighed, the fire leaving him as he looked at the Kazekage, sad and thin and lost. “Please, Kazekage-sama. Hope is not gone, not unless you let it go. Please do not let it go.” 

He stared determinedly into the Kazekage's tear-streaked face. Lee hadn't risked everything to simply give up and Gaara hadn't worked his whole life to prove himself to simply allow someone else to take this from him. Though Lee couldn't do this alone, he was far too stubborn to let that stop him. He would find whatever proof he could or die trying. 

The Kazekage took in a trembling breath. “Fine. If there is a chance I can return to my village...” He trailed off, looking away from Lee, gaze far off. 

With Gaara's acquiescence, relief washed over Lee, but it was short lived. Their situation was still dire, and Gaara did not look fit for travel—not physically, not emotionally. They needed to rest, and Gaara needed to restore some of his strength. It was obvious that the Kazekage had not been fed well during his short stint in prison, and though he did not look particularly unhealthy in the thin grey light of early morning, he had clearly lost considerable weight. Lee's gaze lingered for a brief moment on the way the linen of his tunic hung on him, loose and ill fitting and far too thin. He looked away, moving to the large backpack Temari had prepared for them. 

“You should eat.”

“What did you bring?” 

“Everything we could possibly need for an indeterminate amount of time on the lamb! Temari-san prepared it for us last week, and Tenten hid it for us.” He began rummaging through the pack, grabbing the healthy sized portion of food Temari had placed directly at the top. “Temari-san said you have a large appetite, so there is quite a lot of food in here, plus a change of clothes, fake passports, weapons, money, and bedrolls. I believe we have everything we will need.” 

Gaara took the food Lee held out to him without a word. He sat down next to Lee, digging in with more gusto than Lee had expected. He watched Gaara carefully out of the corner of his eye, as he mindlessly sorted through the things Temari had packed. 

“Temari-san has given us a good cover story for while we are traveling,” he said absently, turning his gaze back to the items in the bag. He pulled his notebook from his vest pocket, flipping it open to look over the notes he had taken in preparation for this day. “Our first order of business—once you have regained your strength—is to head west, to the villages you were helping. The ANBU Temari-san sent to find someone to be a witness have not returned, and we have all grown quite concerned.” 

Gaara paused in his eating, turning to look at Lee. “If my ANBU haven't returned yet, then someone must have interfered.” 

Lee nodded. “That is our guess as well,” he said. “So once we have rested, we will make for the western villages. If we are successful in finding a witness and your ANBU, then we will send them back to Suna to meet with my teammates.” 

“What about Temari and Kankurou?” 

Lee blanched. “Oh. I—I am so sorry, but they have both been imprisoned.” Gaara's expression crumpled. He looked like a boy for a moment; a lost and lonely child, begging for someone to save him. Lee reached out, his fingers brushing Gaara's knee briefly before he pulled his hand back. “I am truly sorry. If I could have saved them—I wanted to! But it would have been too difficult to save you all. And if anyone had discovered me before I had reached you—” He broke off, looking away. Shame and guilt made his stomach churn; there was nothing that would make him feel better about leaving Kankurou and Temari behind.

“They wouldn't have wanted you to save them over me,” Gaara said, numb; the words automatic like muscle memory. 

“They knew it was only a matter of time before something happened that would make them look guilty. Shinpiko-san has been determined to find anything on them.” Lee looked back at Gaara, gaze earnest as he said, “I wish there had been more I could have done for them.”

“You did what you had to.” Gaara sounded a though he were trying to convince himself of this truth and, for a moment, Lee worried that the Kazekage was angry with him. 

“I truly would have saved them if I could have,” he repeated, voice thick in his throat. 

Gaara's gaze flicked to his, not really seeing Lee, but somehow as intent as ever. “I do not blame you for this,” he said quietly. “I blame myself.” 

“But—”

“Something is happening in the world, something I missed. Whatever—whoever is plotting against me has been doing so for sometime now and I was too caught up in the dream of peace to see it. It is my fault that my family is suffering.” 

Lee felt angry all over again and with no target for his anger, tears welled in his eyes again. He clenched his fists, turning away. He knew there was little he could say to ease Gaara's guilt or pain, but he hated not trying. It was not a situation, however, that could be made better with words and promises; Lee had learned after Neji's death during the war that sometimes no amount of promises and fortitude could chase away grief. He had tried to make the pain go away, he had tried to dull it with training until he was too exhausted to cry. Nothing had changed it. He'd had to bear it, had to learn to live with it, and as time passed the pain became a part of him like the ache of his muscles after a vigorous workout. He would never stop missing Neji, but he lived with the loss now.

He hoped Gaara did not have to live with this pain for much longer, he hoped that soon this pain would be a thing of the past. 

Once they had both eaten, Lee pulled out their bedrolls, determined to get at least a couple hours of sleep before the sun. It was unlikely to be restful with their adrenaline still high and the grief still overwhelming, but without rest they would not fair well in the desert. Gaara would not have the same difficulties, perhaps, but Lee had spent several hours running and was not accustomed to the desert heat. 

“We should try to get some sleep before the sun comes up,” he said, smoothing out the second bedroll. 

“I don't sleep,” Gaara said quietly, a tremor in his voice. 

Lee turned back to him, confusion knitting his brows together. “But I thought that was only because of Shukaku.” 

“Once upon a time,” he murmured. “I lived most of my life with the tailed beast, unable to sleep, subsisting off of chakra and eating three times the amount of food. It was ingrained in me that sleep was a dangerous thing, and so even after Shukaku... I tried. Once. Right after I was free of him, but I couldn't sleep and closing my eyes to try...” He trailed off, letting the words hang between them. The silence stretched, leaving Lee to wonder at what had happened. He studied Gaara's face and the smooth skin that he had never seen before; it was darker than Lee's without the sand covering it and so smooth it could have been made of porcelain. On his right cheek, however, there was a thin, bright scar, the only blemish on his face besides the scar on his forehead that, without the sand, was raised and uneven. Usually, during those infrequent but cherished visits, he found himself staring at the character on Gaara's forehead, but now his gaze was caught by that small, fine scar on his cheek. 

When Gaara spoke again, his voice caught Lee by surprise. He barely spoke above a whisper, the anguish in his voice trembling and vivid, catching the words in his throat. “I couldn't keep myself awake in that cell. I couldn't—I tried, but I couldn't. I was s-so tired and I—” His voice broke, shattering whatever composure he'd managed to regain and he cried again, his gaze unfocused and far off, a hand gripping the fabric of his tunic over his heart. 

Lee felt as powerless now as he had every day waiting to find something to prove Gaara's innocence. They had never been meant to find anything, but everyday they'd tried and everyday they had felt more hopeless, more desperate, more useless; going around and around in circles, turning over every rock to reveal only the dirt and bugs beneath.

“Kazekage-sama—”

“D-don't,” Gaara said, a pleading note in his voice. “Please. Just. Don't.” 

Lee subsided, watching him from the corner of his eye. He hated seeing the Kazekage like this, hated more that there was no end in sight. But the only thing he could do was allow Gaara his grief and, if Gaara allowed it, perhaps carry him through it. 

He scooted closer, glancing anxiously at Gaara's stricken face. “I know there is little I can say to ease the ache in your heart, but know that I am here for you. I know I cannot begin to imagine what this must feel like, but I—but we are friends and so I will do my best to carry some of this pain for you, to help ease it if I can.” Lee clenched his hands into fists against his thighs, glaring through tears at the bandages that covered his hands. Blood stained the knuckles from when he'd dug his fingers into metal and stone to free Gaara. It had mixed with dirt to make them grungier than usual, and beneath the blood and dirt, hidden beneath the bandages his hands were scarred, his fingers calloused—they were not particularly nice hands to look at in truth, but they were strong; they had weathered countless feats of strength and tests of endurance; they had held tight to loved ones; they had fought evil. Perhaps his hands were ugly and gnarled, but they were good and strong. He took in a steadying breath and reached over, taking Gaara's shaking hand in his. “I am not much, Kazekage-sama, but I have always done my best. I will do my best now to help you with whatever I can.” 

Gaara sucked in a shaky breath, half a sob and half words he could not speak. He nodded mutely, staring unseeing at the wall of rocks before them. 

Lee gave him a sad smile. There was so much more he would like to say, but he hardly knew where to begin. He gave Gaara's hand a gentle squeeze before letting go, but Gaara's hand followed, gripping Lee's hand as though it were a life line. “Promise you won't leave me.” 

“I would never,” Lee said with a quiet vehemence, breath caught in his throat. “We will see this through together, Kazekage-sama. No matter what.” 

“Together,” Gaara repeated brokenly. 

Lee squeezed his hand again and, this time, he didn't let go.


	7. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He has always been a genius, but he can't solve a puzzle without all the pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah! It sure has been a while since I updated this story, and I am sooooooo sorry for that! Life has been W I L D and my summer was jam packed with moving and working 6 day weeks--which some of you may already know from either my tumblr or from my update to Find Me. Anyways! This will be the last update until Alliance is finished, but I hope that it's a good update and that it was worth the wait! I promise that Alliance will be done very soon. My hope is to finish it no later than the end of this month so I can get back to this by November! 
> 
> Happy reading!

I. 

The Third's death had been a tragedy in its own right, but he'd been an old man and he'd died protecting his village. Tsunade's death, however, was a tragedy of a different color. It left its mark not simply with the collective mourning of the village, but also with the village's official lock-down and the desperate paranoia that permeated the air. 

Kakashi did his best to keep the details of Tsunade's death under wraps, but even the most tight lipped ANBU was no match for village gossip. Shikamaru knew the moment Temari's name had passed through the grape vine, because immediately after everyone—shinobi and civilian alike—watched him with wary eyes and avoided him with a disdainful persistence. Even his clan kept him at arms length. 

“You should have said something,” Shikamaru muttered, staring out the window of Kakashi's office. 

“What would I have said? That I suspect foul play? That I suspect Temari didn't do this? The enemy infiltrated our village, Shikamaru. There's no telling who's watching us.” 

Shikamaru sighed, letting his head fall against the glass of the window. “I know.” 

“We'll figure it out. In the meantime—”

They were interrupted by Kakashi's office door slamming open and Maito Gai rolling in, expression harried and a letter in hand. “Kakashi.”

“Did they make it?” 

The severe expression on Gai's face did not waver, but a quiet pride infused him making him sit taller and lift his chin almost imperceptibly. “Yes.” 

Kakashi bowed his head. “Thank the gods.” 

“What about Ino? And Sakura and Tenten?” Shikamaru asked. “Will this jeopardize their standing?” 

“It could,” Kakashi conceded, holding his hand out to Gai for the correspondence. “But they knew the risks.” 

“Have faith in them,” Gai said. “Your teammate isn't a Senior Intelligence Operative for nothing, after all.” 

Shikamaru took in a shaky breath, nodding to Gai. He glanced at Kakashi who was silently taking in the letter. “Well?” 

“Shinpiko is furious, of course,” Kakashi said, almost blandly. “Ino's claiming that Gaara must have escaped and took Lee captive—” He cut himself off, closing his eyes. “If Shinpiko truly thinks as little of Lee as we hope, then she'll buy it, but...”

“Anyone who knows Lee won't.” Shikamaru felt something hard and heavy lodge itself in his throat. “Does it say anything about Temari?” 

“Shinpiko broke protocol,” Kakashi said. “She's questioned Temari and Kankurou, but both were injured when Lee and Gaara escaped. The prison itself collapsed from—according to this, 'a cataclysmic force so powerful that the entire upper level was demolished.' Seems Lee decided to forgo the front door.” 

“Temari's okay, though?” Shikamaru asked; quiet, contained. His heart beat erratically, completely out of his control. If Lee had accidentally killed Temari—

“As I said, she and Kankurou were only injured,” Kakashi reminded him. “Breathe, Shikamaru. She's fine. She's more capable than to allow herself to die like that. Although, perhaps Lee was a bit careless.” 

“He does not always think things through,” Gai agreed. “Especially when those he cares deeply for are in danger. I should be able to get a message to Lee soon. I'm sure Ningame or one of his comrades will be able to find them.” 

“Wait until we know more about what's happening in Suna,” Kakashi said, waving aside Gai's offer. “They'll need an update eventually, but for now let's focus on damage control. We need to be sure that Shinpiko and everyone else is buying that Gaara escaped and kidnapped Lee, we need to know that Ino and the others aren't compromised.” 

“Then I will send Ningame to Tenten, or perhaps a less inconspicuous comrade of his. A tiny tortoise would hardly raise an eyebrow in the desert.” 

“That should be fine,” Kakashi agreed. “Thank you, Gai.” 

“Can you send one to Temari?” Shikamaru couldn't help but ask. He knew it was dangerous idea, but the fear in his heart made him foolish. He needed to know she was all right.

Kakashi and Gai stared at him for a brief, quiet moment before sharing a look. Kakashi nodded. 

“I will see what I can do,” Gai agreed. “If it is safe, then I will be sure to send one to her.” 

“Thank you.” A weight settled over Shikamaru's shoulders, tension building in every muscle. “What should I do in the meantime?” 

“Go home,” Kakashi said. “I need to speak with Naruto, and I'd rather do that alone. He hasn't taken Tsunade's death well—I wouldn't expect him to—and I worry that anyone else's presence may upset him more. Especially given the tension between you two lately.” 

Shikamaru huffed. “I'll try to be more patient.” 

“I understand your impatience, Shikamaru,” Kakashi said, a chiding note in his voice despite the words. “Temari's fate and the fate of her brothers is a heavy burden on all of us, you especially. But Naruto's heart is in the right place, even if his mind isn't.” 

Shikamaru nodded. “I know. I know. I just—he always wants to rush in, head first. And if it's not that, it's talking things out with people who simply can't be reasoned with. Talking isn't going to help us now, and I just wish he'd get that through his head.” 

Kakashi hummed. “So do I. But right now, I worry that talking is the last thing on his mind.” 

II.

The trial had been set for the following day. 

Without the Kazekage, however, they could hardly move forward. 

“They still want to try Temari and Kankurou,” Kakashi said, staring at documents and another correspondence, this time from Mifune. “The other Kage have already arrived in Iron. They said they'd wait for us to mourn Tsunade, but they expect me there by the end of next week.” 

“What about Tsunade's vote? Aren't they going to replace her?” 

“At this point?” Kakashi shook his head. “It looks like we're down to eleven votes, and I'm the only one standing in the way of a guilty verdict.” 

“What about the Mizukage? Didn't Tsunade write her?” 

“She likely won't believe us now,” Kakashi said heavily. “The Mizukage and Tsunade were close. I'm sure she's grieving this loss with us.” 

The door to his office opened and Gai, followed by an exhausted looking Naruto, entered. “News from Suna.” 

“What's Tenten said?” 

“Things are tense, but as of now Shinpiko does seem to believe Lee to be a hostage of the Kazekage's. Ino and the others are still in her good graces, but Tenten is sure that one wrong move will destroy any trust Shinpiko has in them.” 

“We knew that was a likely outcome,” Kakashi maintained. “At least we know they haven't lost their footing completely. I already sent ahead my approval for them to stay on with Shinpiko as overseers of the investigation. The other Kage have also agreed.” 

“So now we just gotta find Gaara?” Naruto asked, voice gruff with his grief. He sounded as though all he'd done lately was cry, and his eyes seemed to confirm this. 

“No,” Kakashi said. “We need to find evidence.” 

Naruto frowned. “So you still think this is a set up.” 

Kakashi met Naruto's gaze, even and quiet. Naruto didn't blink, his expression hardening. “I told you, Naruto, we need to keep our heads—”

Naruto snorted. “Right. Keep our heads. Tsunade-baachan's dead, but the most important thing is finding evidence! Evidence of what? I mean, what's even the point? If everything can be argued against, then what's even real? If Gaara didn't do it, then why is it so easy for everyone to believe he did?!” 

Kakashi rose to his feet suddenly, slamming his hands on the desk. “Naruto, that's enough. We have discussed this. I know you are hurting, but now more than ever, I need you to remain calm. Tsunade wouldn't want you to fall for this—”

“How would you know? Huh? You ask her? Oh, wait! You can't!” Naruto glared past Kakashi to Shikamaru. “You still more worried about your girlfriend? She's the one who brought them here.” 

“Don't you dare—”

“Silence! Enough. Naruto, leave. Go outside, get some air. You and I will discuss this again later.” 

Naruto huffed, turning sharply on his heals and stomping from the room. He slammed the door behind him with enough force that the office shook. 

“He's a loose canon,” Shikamaru murmured. “He's going to jeopardize the mission.” 

“Yes,” Kakashi agreed. “But we need him. If I can talk him out of this, he can still be a character witness for Gaara. People trust Naruto, they believe in him. _I_ believe in him. If anyone can help Gaara, it's Naruto.” 

“But does he want to anymore?” 

III.

Shikamaru squinted in the dim light of his room.

It was late, but he couldn't sleep—hadn't been able to sleep since this whole ugly ordeal had started; he didn't think he'd be able to sleep until it was over. _If_ it was ever over. 

He missed Temari. He wanted to curl up against her, pull her close and never let her go. Her warmth had felt like home, he'd felt full and happy when she'd been here for her visit. Two weeks had seemed like such a short stretch of time then, his appetite for her company insatiable and greedy, so sure they had all the time in the world; now two weeks was all he wanted. He'd gladly trade two weeks with the woman he'd never thought he'd love so much for all this turmoil. 

He glanced to his bedroom door, checking once again that it was locked. Paranoia ran through his blood, made him cold with dread; the smallest sound sent his heart pounding and brought a kunai to his hand. He shook himself. 

The notebook he'd been pouring over was a mess of coded notes. He'd been able to sneak it out of Suna when he'd left, but that was all he'd dared to risk sneaking past Iwa's guard.

He sighed, tapping his pen against the notebook, trying to remember anything important from his short time in Suna; trying to wrack his brain for even the barest scrap of a hint, a clue, a pattern— _something_. He'd poured over so many documents in the quiet of the Kazekage residence while stealing what little time he could with Temari, trying to comfort her with his presence when there was no comfort to be had. 

“He has a hunch,” Temari had said, once during the first few days of Gaara's imprisonment, just before his teammates had arrived. “Couldn't tell me more, but if there's anything important in here, I'm sure we'll find it.” 

Shikamaru sighed at the memory of that night, of pouring over log books and missions reports from the last five years. “Will we find anything, though?” he whispered in the oppressive silence of his room. 

It didn't matter. Temari was too far away, locked somewhere dark and hidden from the world, far from his reach. 

He flipped the page, rubbing at his tired eyes. 

“Does he think there's a pattern?” Shikamaru had asked. “Does he think whoever killed the Tsuchikage was behind those skirmishes?” 

“I don't know,” Temari had said; exasperated, frustrated, exhausted. “I don't know, Shikamaru. I just—he said he had a hunch. That's all.” 

“Hey,” Shikamaru had soothed pulling her close, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Hey, I'm sorry. It's okay. I'll figure it out. We'll figure it out.” 

Temari had wiped at her eyes, trying to push back the tears threatening to fall. “Yeah,” she had said, voice thick with the need to cry. 

He hadn't been able to find a pattern. Temari hadn't been able to connect any dots. 

They'd given up. They'd given in. They'd set aside the documents and gone to bed. He should have gone back to the housing compound—Shinpiko had had a watch stationed outside of Shikamaru's room, staying with Temari had been dangerous, but he hadn't cared. It had been the one and only night they'd spent together while he'd been in Suna. Every night after had been filled with fear and stress and the constant hunt for clues they'd never fine. 

The memory of Temari distracted him: her smell, her skin, her touch—he wanted it all back.

He shook himself, trying to force the memories to the back of his mind for darker moments when he'd need her to stay strong.

“Focus,” he told himself. 

Taking in a deep breath, he went back several pages in his notebook to the first page of notes on the skirmishes that had broken out in Wind over the last five years. 

“After peace had been declared, the first attack occurred in the west, near a small clustered village. Several tradesmen were attacked by an unknown group while traveling westward for trade.” Shikamaru paused in re-reading his notes. It was strange that immediately after peace had been declared among the great nations that an attack would break out. 

He wracked his memory, trying to recall when the first skirmish had broken out in Fire. 

“After peace had been declared,” he read again, his eyes going wide. He rose to his feet, staring down at the notebook. He rushed to his bookcase, pulling maps and old logs down. “After peace had been declared—when was it, when was it—”

The map of Fire unfurled, covering the entirety of the small low table he was working at. His own personal journal was just a simple log of patterns he noticed through his life. It was something to pass the time, making puzzles where there were none. 

But perhaps, this time... 

Diligently, he skimmed his log, searching for the first outbreak of violence after the war five years ago. 

“Bingo,” he said as his finger slid down the page and landed on the entry. “Fuck.” 

He looked back at the date for the first attack in Wind. 

It was the same. 

He needed to be able to access the files in the other villages, but that wouldn't be possible unless he went undercover, and even if he were successful it would take months to discover all the necessary information. 

Temari didn't have time for months. 

It was possible that none of them did. 

IV. 

Shikamaru held his notes close to his chest, hidden within his flack jacket. He ducked down a side street to avoid the congested main road leading to Hokage Tower, keeping his eyes peeled and his senses on high alert. 

Walking through his village had never felt unsafe as it did now. Even without the threat of attack from potential enemies, he couldn't pass by anyone without getting a dirty look or hearing a snide comment, and his fellow shinobi were far more inclined to start a fight than even an enemy operative was. He couldn't risk that now, not when he was carrying such sensitive information.

He'd forgone sleep the night before, doggedly pouring over his notes, searching out pattern after pattern, trying to put together a puzzle he only had a handful of pieces to. The picture that had started to form as the cool gray of mourning light filtered into his room was not a pretty one. He'd been hard pressed not to run immediately to Kakashi's apartment the moment things had started to become clear.

In hindsight, he realised as he slipped down another side street, taking the long way to Hokage Tower, he probably should have gone before the rest of the village had started to rise. 

The hairs at the back of his neck rose, his skin tingling with the weight of watchful eyes. 

It had started just before Tsunade's death—every now and again, for short periods at a time, someone would watch him. He'd thought, with the death of the assassins, that his stalker would no longer be capable of tracking his every move, but that had not been the case. 

It seemed there were still unwanted guests in Konohagakure, though how many Shikamaru couldn't tell. 

He crossed his arms tightly in front of his chest, a desperate and uncontrollable fear that his notes would cascade from his vest taking him. The sky was threatening rain and had been since the night before; hopefully whoever was watching him would buy that he had simply succumbed to the chill in the air. 

As he rounded another corner, familiar chakra licked at his senses and he stopped. At the other end of the road, blocking his path into Hokage Tower, was Naruto. 

He appeared to be waiting, leaning casually against the wall of the back entrance to the building with his hands stuffed in his pockets and a sour look on his face. Shikamaru steeled himself for the worst. 

“Naruto,” he greeted as he approached. 

Naruto chewed his cheek thoughtfully, staring at Shikamaru. Finally, he asked, “Cold?” 

“A bit.” The gaze that had followed Shikamaru on his way to Hokage Tower seemed to drill a hole into the back of his skull. He shifted, trying to be discreet about the things he carried. “Are you here to see the Hokage?” 

Naruto shrugged. “Nah. Kinda sicka bein' talked to like I'm a kid, ya know? 'Everything's too hard for you to understand, Naruto', 'Just trust me, Naruto'—fat lotta good trusting any of you did Tsunade-baachan.” 

Shikamaru felt cold, a chill running down his spine. “So, what?” He spoke quietly, raising his voice only as much as he dared in case whoever was watching him was close enough to hear. “You're just going to throw Gaara to the dogs? Let someone you claimed was your friend die?” 

“Don't talk to me about what I'm gonna do,” Naruto snapped. “You're just so fucking blinded by your girlfriend you can't see what's right in front of you.” 

“Oh, that's rich coming from you.” 

Naruto narrowed his eyes. “What's that supposed to mean?” 

“You know exactly what it means,” Shikamaru spat. “'I have to bring Sasuke home,'” he whined. “'I'll bring Sasuke home or die trying, dattebayo! Sasuke, Sasuke, Sasuke!'” 

The punch Naruto aimed at him missed by scant centimeters. Shikamaru dodged only just in time, the force of the hit gusting past his cheek, a knuckle grazing him and chakra biting at his skin. He stumbled back, clutching his notes more tightly to his chest. 

“Don't. You. Dare,” Naruto growled. 

“What? Tell you the truth? If I'm blind because of Temari, then what are you when it comes to Sasuke?” 

“That's not the same.” 

“Isn't it?” Shikamaru countered. “What's so different about it?” 

“He's like a brother to me! I had to—”

“Bullshit.” Shikamaru took a step forward, crowding close to Naruto. He knew in a fight Naruto would win, but Shikamaru always had the advantage of strategy. Naruto was all reaction, hot recklessness that didn't leave much room for cool-headed logic. And angry, he was even more stupidly rash. “You and I both know what Sasuke means to you.” He scoffed. “I'm surprised Hinata's even giving you a chance.” 

A drop of rain hit Shikamaru's cheek, a tiny speck of water, snapping him out of his own anger. 

“You don't know anything,” Naruto said, his voice shaking. 

“I know that this—giving up on your friend—isn't you. And if you give a damn about Gaara, you won't turn your back on him now.” 

He took a step back, glaring past Shikamaru as though he couldn't stand to look at him. Naruto stepped aside, bowing with a flourish, silently entreating Shikamaru to enter Hokage Tower. 

Shikamaru waited a beat, unsure if Naruto was playing a trick, but with the watchful gaze of an unknown party still on him and his notes still tucked away, he took his chances and stepped forward. 

Naruto didn't move. Shikamaru opened the door. 

“For what it's worth,” Naruto muttered as Shikamaru moved into the building, “I hope your right.” 

V.

“I don't know how safe it is anymore,” Shikamaru said as Kakashi closed the blinds. 

“Frankly, I don't think it's safe at all,” Kakashi confirmed. Gai nodded seriously beside him. 

“I have sensed it too,” Gai added. “Someone is watching us.”

“Do you think it's too late? Do you think they know?” 

Kakashi was silent, hand still holding the cord for the blinds as he stared at their wooden slats. He couldn't risk sharing what he'd uncovered without knowing the Hokage's office was safe, completely and totally. 

“We've taken every precaution,” Kakashi assured him, turning. His expression was hard and direct. “Even if they are using listening devices, they will hear only static. As far as anyone in this building is concerned, however, I cannot say.” 

“Then this is it.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I can't—I can't keep meeting you. We're being watched, and if the ones watching us are connected to the Kazekage's framing then they'll know you're working to help him.” 

“I have considered this,” Kakashi said heavily. 

“Then you know we need to stage a falling out.” 

Kakashi glanced to Gai. “I had hoped it wouldn't come to this.”

“Desperate times,” Gai concurred, shaking his head. 

“Well, if this is to be our last meeting, we should make it count,” Kakashi finally said, taking his seat. “We received word from Suna early this morning. It seems that the trial has been postponed by another week. According to Shinpiko, Gaara's escape has left them in a dire situation with regards to housing prisoners and with the news that the Kazekage has fled the village his people are... unhappy to say the least.” 

“So we have more time?” 

“Only so much. I'm still expected in Iron by next week, but two weeks is more than we had yesterday, and if I can convince the rest of the Kage to redirect our efforts then perhaps we can stretch it out by a month even.” 

“What could they possibly prioritize over the trial though?” 

“Locating the Kazekage. He's the one the others will want more than his siblings.” 

Shikamaru nodded. “That could work.” He frowned. “But what happens if they actually find Lee and Gaara?” 

“It is doubtful anyone except perhaps a fellow Kage could take Gaara.” Kakashi paused, his gaze finding Gai's, something secret between them. “And he has Lee. Lee won't let anything happen to him, I'm sure.” 

Gai bowed his head, closing his eyes. 

“Do we know what their plans are?” 

“Lee and Gaara's? Not yet. We've been a bit preoccupied with damage control, obviously, and Naruto's been—”

“I saw him. Outside.” Shikamaru hesitated. “Is he still involved? Are you still planning to take him to Iron as a character witness?” 

Kakashi's expression was impassive, as still as a lake. “You're concerned?” 

“He's grieving,” Shikamaru said. 

“And you aren't?” 

“But—he's not thinking clearly. I trust Naruto, I do. But I don't trust where he's at right now.” 

Kakashi sighed, turning away from Shikamaru and presenting him with his profile. “I can't argue with you, Shikamaru. Naruto is, at present, unpredictable. I can't say if it would be wise or unwise to put our trust in him in his current state. I believe he does care for Gaara, and I don't think he wants Gaara to die, but at the same time I don't think he knows what to believe anymore.” He sighed again, more frustrated than resigned this time. 

Shikamaru nodded. “I know it's not ideal, but I think for right now, leaving him out of this would be for the best.” 

Kakashi tapped his fingers against the desk, a steady drumming like the beat of his heart. There was already so much to cope with that losing Naruto's support felt like a killing blow, but keeping him in the loop was a risk they couldn't afford. 

They also couldn't afford to keep waiting for clues to come from Suna. Shikamaru shifted, pulling his notebooks and the map from his flack jacket and setting them on the desk. 

“I discovered something last night,” he said heavily, opening the map and cutting through the tension in the room. He set a pins into the corners, holding it open to reveal the marks he'd placed throughout. He'd marked each instance of a skirmish in Fire with a red X and beside each mark he'd written dates. Over the last five years there had been one-hundred and thirty-one skirmishes in total. 

The same number that had occurred in Wind. 

Kakashi rose from his seat, staring down at the map in silent contemplation. His eyes scanned it carefully, narrowing as he noted the many Xs and their accompanying dates. 

“These are the skirmishes from the last five years,” he said carefully, glancing up at Shikamaru. 

“The dates of all these skirmishes coincide with the dates of skirmishes in Wind,” Shikamaru explained, pointing to a cluster of Xs in the southeast of Fire. “Seventy-two of the skirmishes in Fire occurred on the exact same day that another one took place in Wind. The remaining fifty-nine took place between one and five days apart.” 

Kakashi and Gai stared in silence at Shikamaru, both their expressions set with dreadful comprehension. Kakashi looked back down at the map, taking it all in again. “What's your theory?” 

“The last attack in Fire took place just two months before the Tsuchikage's assassination,” Shikamaru said, tapping his finger against an X at the border of Fire and Hot Water Country with a single date next to it. “This was the last case we saw of violent outbursts from renegades. At the same time, there was an attack in Wind—the village the Kazekage was away helping during the assassination. That village has been the target of thirty separate attacks over the course of the last five years, and the most recent attack on that village—the one that sent Gaara away from Suna at just the right time—was the first one that did not see a counterpart in Fire. 

“After five years of these outbreaks occurring less than a week apart from one another, it's odd that this one time there isn't an outbreak here in Fire. Convenient, really. When I first noticed the matching dates, I thought it might be a bit of a coincidence—one outbreak of violence in Wind falling on the same day as an outbreak of violence in Fire? That's not impossible. Even ten could be brushed aside as happenstance. But twenty? Fifty? A hundred? There's a pattern. That first year both our countries saw fifty-seven outbreaks—that's nearly five times every month that year that we saw violence in both our countries. Tensions were high. I could understand the dates matching up at least from time to time with that much violence.” 

Shikamaru paused, shaking his head. “But in this last year? Only ten outbreaks in ten months. And for every single outbreak, Suna had a matching one on their records.” 

“These were being coordinated by someone,” Gai said, shock a heavy note in his deep voice. 

“Exactly. And I'd bet money that if we looked at any of the other villages' records, we'd see the exact same patterns of violence.” He straightened, taking in a deep breath. “The only time that we didn't see violence at the same time Suna did was the week the Tsuchikage was assassinated. The timing is a little too perfect. Gaara gets pulled away from his village, has no witnesses to his whereabouts except for a few ANBU and a village that's a day and a half away...” 

“They orchestrated that attack. They wanted him out of the village.” Kakashi slammed his hand against the desk, turning sharply away. “Dammit.” 

“I knew,” Shikamaru said, his voice shaking, frustration and anger and fear worming its way into the tenor of his words. “I knew this was bigger than it seemed. I knew something more was going on, but I couldn't—I couldn't see the pattern. I couldn't find anything in Suna. And I don't think I'll find anything else here.” 

Kakashi turned his head, glancing back at Shikamaru.

“Hokage-sama,” Shikamaru said, straightening. “I know there's more to this, but I also know that if we want to find out who's behind this, then we won't be able to do it from here. I'd like to request a mission.” 

“But...” Gai looked thoughtful, frowning down at the map. “Where would you even begin?” 

“The sites of the attacks,” Shikamaru said immediately. “It's our best bet. The last attack was near River. I'll start there.” 

Kakashi bowed his head. “Do you have a team?” 

“Hinata, Sai, Shino, and Kiba.” 

“That's a large team for such a covert mission.” 

“I'm aware,” Shikamaru said. “But I've thought this through. Sai has the most experience with deep undercover, and Team Eight are strong trackers. Plus, Hinata's Byakugan will provide us with ample warning if we're being watched.” 

“It's a good team,” Gai agreed. “But what you're suggesting is an ANBU level operation. A five man team will draw attention.” 

Kakashi held up his hand. He was silent, staring at the slats of the blinds. Shikamaru could picture Konoha clearly beyond the blinds—picturesque and lovely, a gentle rain falling over the village and chasing shoppers back to their homes. But beneath it all, something dark lurked, waiting to upset the beauty and peace they'd fought so hard for. 

Kakashi turned to face Shikamaru fully. “If you leave the village now, it will look suspicious.” 

The tension in Shikamaru left him for a brief moment. There, shining like the sun, was his chance to save Temari. He met Kakashi's gaze evenly and said, “That's why I'm not leaving the village. You're going to arrest me.” 

VI. 

Beef sizzled in the small space between them, filling the silence.

Shikamaru hadn't seen much of Chouji since returning from Suna, and he'd spent even less time anywhere but at home or in Hokage Tower since Tsunade's death. The rumor mill was working overtime, which would work in their favor now, but it had kept him from seeking out his best friend, almost afraid that Chouji would be among those who no longer trusted him. 

Chouji flipped a piece of beef, glancing up at Shikamaru expectantly. 

Peace—or whatever the farce they'd been living these last five years—suited Chouji far more than shinobi life ever had. With the sudden decline in violent outbreaks in the last year, Chouji had seen less and less of the field. Shikamaru missed missions with him, but he liked the effect it had on his best friend. Instead of constant anxiety over this mission or that, Chouji seemed content, happy even. He liked his desk job where his biggest concern was a paper cut, and he liked spending his free time experimenting with different recipes instead of training for something inevitable. 

Chouji had always been gentle and soft, and if things had been different, if he hadn't been born an Akimichi or perhaps their world wasn't quite what it was, he'd never have been a shinobi at all. 

Shikamaru picked up a piece of beef, putting it on the plate in front of him.

“What's going on?” Chouji finally asked, worry creeping into his voice. 

Shikamaru set down his chopsticks. “Nothing.” 

“Don't bullshit me,” Chouji snapped. Shikamaru leaned back, staring at Chouji. “What's going on?” 

“You know what people have been saying?” he asked, dropping his voice. 

“Course I do.” Chouji scowled, swiping a piece of beef before it could burn and biting into it with a little too much force. “You don't think I believe that, do you?” 

Shikamaru's shoulders slumped, his worries leaving him on a breathy laugh. “No, of course not.” 

“Liar,” Chouji said, shaking his head. 

“Yeah, okay,” Shikamaru relented. 

“You should know I'll always trust you. And Ino.” 

Shikamaru nodded. Something flickered at the edge of his senses, a familiar pair of eyes watching him. He shifted. “You promise you won't fall for any of it?” 

Chouji's expression turned serious and he set his own chopsticks down. “I promise.” 

“Even if—no matter what. Don't believe anything anyone tells you about any of it, okay? Don't let them trick you into thinking the worst. Whatever you hear, whatever you _see_ don't trust anything. You got it?” 

“What's going on, Shikamaru? You're freaking me out.” 

“I wish I could tell you more, but I can't,” Shikamaru said, glancing intentionally over his shoulder. 

Right on queue, Kakashi appeared in the doorway of the restaurant, followed by several ANBU and Maito Gai. He rose from his seat, looking around the restaurant with wide eyes as though searching for another exit.

“Nara Shikamaru,” Kakashi said like a command. 

Shikamaru froze. 

“Shikamaru,” Chouji whined, staring between him and Kakashi. 

The ANBU flanking Kakashi moved forward, hands near weapons or poised to form seals. Shikamaru immediately jumped up onto the table, kicking beef to the floor. His shoes sizzled beneath him, the smell of burning leather permeating the air. In quick succession, he formed seals, releasing his shadow and trapping the ANBU. 

“Hokage-sama,” he said, allowing his voice to shake. “Please, don't do this.” 

Kakashi shook his head. “After careful investigation, Nara Shikamaru, I have come to the conclusion that you are an enemy to this village. You will be tried, along with Temari of the Fan and Kankurou of the Black Strings, for conspiracy against Konoha and its allies.” 

His shadow snapped, shrinking back to himself as the other ANBU who'd accompanied Kakashi threw a chakra seal at the floor, severing Shikamaru's connection. A scroll was unfurled and sent streaming towards him, wrapping around his wrists. A blue glow illuminated the characters painted on the scroll as his chakra was tamped down. 

Shikamaru stumbled, falling back at the onslaught. The moment the seal had activated his energy had been sapped and he fought to stay standing on the table. 

“Cho-Chouji,” Shikamaru stuttered, before he keeled over into the side of the booth he'd just been sitting in. 

“Chouji,” Kakashi's voice said, distant and hollow. “Step away.” 

Shikamaru heard the scuffle of Chouji getting up from the booth. He lifted his head, staring blearily at his friend. “Chouji, I'm sorry,” he managed, before passing out. 

VII. 

His cell wasn't equipped with chakra seals the way the Kazekage's had been, but for the sake of appearances, Shikamaru still wore sealed cuffs. It was exhausting, but he was sure it was nothing compared to the torment Gaara had endured. 

Hours passed in the dark of his cell, silence his only companion. He wished he could remember what Chouji had looked like as he'd been arested—had he been angry? Had he believed Shikamaru guilty of some unnamed crime? Or would Chouji know this was all a rouse?

It didn't matter, but Shikamaru would have taken some solace in knowing that his best friend didn't think ill of him. 

He'd only been out of his cell once since being taken in. Kakashi had ordered an interrogation of him only a few hours after the initial arrest, but since then he'd been locked away with only his thoughts and plans. Gai should have contacted Team Eight and Sai by now, and with any luck their mission would be under way soon. 

A slot in his cell slid open and a thin envelop was pushed through before the little door slid shut once again. 

Shikamaru forced himself to his feet, dragging himself across the short space. The envelope was unmarked, with a small self-destruct tag on the face of it. He ripped open the envelope, careful of the seal, and flipped it over so that a small slip of paper fell out. 

_40北195東  
11月12日 0100_

Shikamaru memorized the coordinates, the date, and the time, then placed the slip back into the envelope. It immediately burst into flames. The paper curled in on itself as the flames took over, turning the note to ash in moments. He sat back, watching the remains smolder. 

He had three days before he would leave Konoha and follow whatever trail he could find.


End file.
